


May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground

by anon_carrots



Category: Naruto, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mineta Minoru Doesn't Exist, BAMF Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Manga Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Crossover, Dadzawa, Endeavor’s A+ parenting, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kakashi is reborn as Aizawa, Light Angst, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Parental Hatake Kakashi, Rebirth, We Die Like Men, kakashi just loves his kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-01-29 02:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anon_carrots/pseuds/anon_carrots
Summary: Wherein Kakashi is reborn as Aizawa Shouta, in a world where everything is completely different—except he still manages to become a fighter, a teacher, and a hero.Updates sporiadically.(title taken from "Carry On" by FUN.)
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Class 1-A, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shinsou Hitoshi, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Todoroki Shouto, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic
Comments: 426
Kudos: 2780
Collections: Best Fics From Across The Multiverse, Identity Crisis, Precious Rare and Unique, Reincarnation and Transmigration, Tales of Class 1-A





	1. What is past is prologue

The ground is slick with rainwater in the night, moonlight wavering weakly in pockets that dot the alleyway. Stumbling through the cool darkness, the Villain curses quietly through the puddles, each step crushing each reflection of the moon into millions of shards of light.

He follows the Villain easily, molding his body to the shadows as has become second nature to him through a lifetime (lifetimes) of practice. Despite the water on the ground, his movements are completely silent, and as he catches up with the Villain he tucks himself deeper into the blackness, standing utterly still, muscles tensed and ready to move at just the right moment. 

He’s capable of remaining like this for hours (has done it a million times on stakeouts, ambushes, assassinations, as part of a military that never was, that exists only in his memories of an age long gone) but the Villain reaches into a dark corner and triumphantly slings a bag of stolen government equipment over his shoulder—and that’s all the evidence he needs to strike.

Aizawa Shouta makes no sound as he collides with the Villain, eyes blazing as he activates his Quirk (not chakra or jutsu, he reminds himself, a Quirk). The Villain doesn’t stand a chance, honestly. Shouta’s fist catches him square in the solar plexus, knocking the breath from the man as his capture tool winds around his legs, before he jabs two fingers into the Villain’s neck, who slumps before he can even cry out in alarm.

As Shouta bends down to retrieve the bag the Villain dropped, he catches a glimpse of himself reflected in the rainwater—his eyes glow red from his Quirk, and for a moment he thinks he sees three tomoe swirling lazily in his left eye, a scar across his eyelid and cheek, before he blinks and his eyes are dark again. 

Picking up the bag, with the Villain wrapped securely in his capture tool, he tucks his face deeper into the cloth winding around his neck, and he sets off in the direction of the nearest police station.

He doesn’t look back.

———

When Hatake Kakashi closed his eyes for what he thought was the last time, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. See his father and his sensei, maybe, or maybe his long-lost teammates and everyone else he’d ever lost. He wasn’t expecting to open them again to a blurry world of overwhelming sound and colors, held by enormous beings while he uncontrollably wailed his lungs out. 

Rebirth, he deduced, ever the genius, as he was placed against a warm chest and was lulled to sleep by the unintelligible babble around him.

———

His new name was Aizawa Shouta. He was a startlingly quiet child, constantly observing the world around him. His new parents were initially worried by his odd behavior, but after trips to a child psychologist and plenty of assurances that Shouta was actually developing faster than average (as usual), they learn to quell their worries. 

(He... appreciates them. Even though they both worked, trying to support their modest little family, they were both there for him ((he sometimes caught himself marveling at the kind of world he lived in now, that even with his luck he could finally group up with a family)).)

———

Shouta’s three and sitting at the dinner table, his mother humming and cooking, when he first activates his Quirk. 

“Are you excited for dinner, Shou-chan?” His mother asks, stirring something that smells delicious. 

“Mmm.”

“I made your favorite!” She continues, unbothered by his monotone response. “Eggplant and miso soup!”

“Mmm.”

His mother turns to smile at him, just as his father rounds the corner to the kitchen. The aroma of sizzling eggplant fills the air, and Shouta is filled with a sudden feeling of...something, a foreign lightness in his heart he wants to cherish (alongside memories of loud-mouthed blonds and perpetually-happy team senseis and ridiculous competitions against a blur of green and—)

On instinct, he reaches somewhere inside himself, summoning energy to his left eye to record this moment forever even though it had been three years since he’d last felt that energy in his body, except—

There’s a familiar tingling in his eyes. His parents both gasp.

“Shou-chan! Your eyes!” His mother scrambles to his side, gently cupping his cheeks and examining him intently. Shouta blinks in confusion, and the tingling is gone. 

His eyes. 

He can’t decide whether or not Fate has a sense of humor.

———

It takes much longer to discover what Shouta’s Quirk actually does, through a series of accidents involving his mother’s minor levitation Quirk, porcelain plates, and Shouta watching her cook while trying to activate his Quirk again. They eat using only paper plates for a period of time.

(He’s still adjusting to the fact that this time, this power is entirely his own—not gifted to him through tragedy.)

——— 

Shouta learns to read (it’s much easier when you’ve learned it once before), and then he discovers the Heroes.

They’re everywhere—the news, billboards, toys in fast food kids’ meals, and so on. The other children at Shouta’s preschool always play Heroes and Villains, and even though he never joins in, Shouta can see how deeply ingrained Pro-Heroes are in this world’s culture. All the children want to be Heroes when they grow up.

It’s almost like Konoha all over again—where shinobi were the most prominent members of the village and the children fought over who got to be the Shinobi and who had to be the Theives—except there’s much less of a military presence in this world. Pro-Heroes aren’t soldiers. They’re defenders of the common people. They get to decide their own battles. They get to become heroes of their own choosing. 

———

Hatake Kakashi has always wanted to do what was right, so Aizawa Shouta resolves to be a Hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mostly intend to focus on Shouta/Kakashi’s years at U.A. and beyond. No idea where this is going, just a dumb idea eating at my brain. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> (Update: minor edits made to streamline formatting/continuity.)


	2. Just blond boys doing what blond boys do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of high school, and Shouta meets some familiar people.
> 
> (AU Notes:  
-There will likely be manga spoilers at some point! I’ll do my best to include warnings in the notes, but I’m not caught up with the anime so I have no idea where the anime stops in the manga  
-I’ll be including parts of the Vigilantes spinoff manga for the first two chapters (basically just Aizawa’s backstory and Shirakumo Oboro’s character), but my only knowledge of it comes from the BNHA wiki so I apologize for any errors in regards to canon plot  
-Actually just make that a blanket apology for plot-related discontinuity in general
> 
> Thank you all for your kind comments and kudos! They really made my day and I appreciate all the feedback :D)

Shouta stands before the front gates to U.A., gazing at the towering bulk of the school. He’s on time (for once), and takes a second to drink in the moment, ignoring the other new students milling around the courtyard and chattering excitedly. 

He’d made it. First on the written exam (no surprises there; he’s still a genius, after all), and a passing score on the physical portion… Not bad, especially since his Quirk hadn’t been useful at all in that second half.

(It’s a good thing he was literally a ninja in his previous life.)

At any rate, he’s here now, finally about to start training as a Hero, finally about to move forward through this second life he’s found himself living. He moves to take a step forward when—

“Whoa! Sorry, dude!”

—something very loud slams into him from behind. 

Shouta barely even stumbles, regaining his balance with practiced ease. He shoves his hands in his pockets and tilts his head, dark hair falling over his left eye as he turns to take a look at the student who bumped into him. 

(So sue him, he _ likes _his old aesthetic, okay?)

“You okay, dude?! That was totally my bad!” The boy exclaims. “Gotta watch where I’m going more!” He runs a hand through his spiked blond hair while adjusting his glasses, and he peers at Shouta with bright green eyes. The boy’s cheeks are flushed as he grins in embarrassment. “I really hope I didn’t hurt you or anything.”

“...maa, it’s fine,” Shouta murmurs, “no harm done.”

(He freezes. For a moment, he sees another excited, overly-loud blond with blue eyes standing in front of him, who laughs just as freely as this one, whom he’d first feared and despised in equal measure as a reminder of all he’d lost, whom he’d eventually come to love as a student, as family, as someone he would give his life for in an instant without regret—)

“Hey, hey! What’s your name?” The boy doesn’t seem to notice Shouta’s momentary pause. “Mine’s Yamada Hizashi!” 

(There’s a strange feeling in his chest.)

“...Aizawa Shouta.”

“Nice ta meetcha, dude! Hey, are you a first-year student, too? I’m starting in the Hero Course today!” 

Shouta tucks his hands deeper into his pockets. “I’m starting in the Hero Course, too. Class 1-A.” 

“Whoa! Me, too! What are the chances we’d bump into each other?!” Yamada whoops. Did he even stop to breathe between sentences?

“Technically,” Shouta says wryly, “you bumped into me.”

Yamada deflates like a balloon. “Oh, yeah…”

“...maa, I’m joking. Don’t worry about it.”

The other boy perks back up immediately. “Hey, hey, let’s walk to class together! So we don’t get lost! Or we can get lost together!” Yamada excitedly bounces forward past the gates, glancing back at him to follow.

Shouta raises an eyebrow bemusedly. It must be the hair, he decides. The yellow coloring probably absorbs the sun’s rays like a solar panel or something, that’s where all the shouting and jumping comes from.

“Alright,” he agrees, slouching after Yamada.

The other boy continues to chatter excitedly as they walk. “I still can’t believe we’re here at U.A.! I thought for sure I wouldn’t end up in the Hero Course ‘cause of the written exam. Man, that was hard!” He laughs and crosses his arms behind his head. “I probably barely passed, heh… but I guess it was still good enough to get me here!”

(A memory flashes through his mind—it’s of the same pose from the boy with the same blond hair, face caked in dirt from their latest D-rank, rambling about how he _ would _ become the Hokage no matter what, _ believe it _—and there’s that feeling in his chest again.)

Thankfully, Yamada misses Shouta’s lapse in attention. They’ve stopped at the front door, and Yamada stares intently into the building, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Nervous?” Shouta mutters, side-eyeing his classmate.

“Who, me?” Yamada asks, immediately flushing. “H-hell, no! Let’s go!” 

Shouta offers him the smallest of eye-smiles in response, and they take their first step into the halls of U.A. together.

——— 

Yamada enters the classroom first when they reach the door marked ‘1-A,’ Shouta ducking in behind him before it swings shut. The classroom looks about half-full already, with clumps of students here and there who are talking, and others sit quietly to themselves. 

“HELLO, EVERYBODY!” Yamada bellows excitedly. Everyone stares, and Shouta sighs to himself.

(One could almost call it a… Dynamic Entry. He winces inwardly, not sure whether to laugh or cry.)

Yamada continues shouting his introduction, while Shouta slinks to the chalk board at the front of the room, peering intently at the posted seating chart. 

“... and my Quirk is called ‘Voice,’ and it can make me, like, really, really loud!” 

Somehow, Shouta’s not surprised.

He walks quickly to his desk, plopping into his seat and dropping his head onto his arms. Maybe he can fit in a quick nap before— 

“Whoa, dude!” Yamada’s standing in front of him. “I sit right behind you! How cool is that?!”

“...maa, who would’ve thought?” Shouta peers up from his arms, watching out of the corner of his eye as the blond scrabbles between the desks to put his bag onto the one behind him. 

He’s back in an instant, grinning down at him. “Hey, dude, what’s your Quirk? I can’t believe I forgot to ask you earlier. I bet it’s cool!”

Shouta doesn’t bother lifting his head. “I can erase Quirks,” he mutters. Of course, Yamada crows excitedly, immediately beginning to ask questions about his Quirk with a torrent of words. He answers the blond with one-word grunts, and the classroom steadily begins to fill with students. 

Several minutes later, he glances around the nearly-full room. Yamada is introducing himself to a boy sitting to Shouta’s left as the students mumble among themselves.

“My name is Shirakumo Oboro, and my Quirk is ‘Cloud’! Pleased to meet you,” the student says with a smile. 

(His gravity-defying white hair seems a bit too familiar. Shouta stamps down on an irrational surge of jealousy as he runs a hand through his long black hair.)

“Aizawa Shouta,” he murmurs, “and my Quirk is ‘Erase.’”

Shirakumo’s grin matches Yamada’s in size and enthusiasm, eyes squinting with delight. “So are you guys nervous for the Hero course?”

“More like excited!” Yamada exclaims. “I can’t wait to learn how to kick ass like all the Heroes on TV!”

“My dream is to be one of the Top 10 Heroes,” Shirakumo says, “so I guess I’m pretty excited to learn to kick ass, too!”

Shouta slumps into his arms. “How troublesome…” 

For some reason, the other two only laugh at Shouta’s response. He isn’t sure whether he’s surprised or not that this new boy’s personality is almost exactly like Yamada’s.

(Seeing the two boys animatedly chatting together, with Shirakumo’s smile and Yamada’s excited voice, makes his chest feel strange again. 

Just his luck to end up sitting next to not one, but _ two _Narutos for the year.)

———

The final bell rings, and the new students of Class 1-A explode into a frenzy of screeching chairs and unintelligible babble. Shouta slings his bag onto his shoulder, following the mass exodus out the doors of the school. Yamada and Shirakumo follow closely behind, thoroughly engrossed in conversation again.

“Do you wanna exchange phone numbers?” Shirakumo is asking Yamada.

“Hell yeah, dude!” The blond beams, accepting the pro-offered cellphone and flipping it open. “Let’s hang out soon and do something cool!” He types his information into it quickly, before whipping his head up to stare hopefully at Shouta along with Shirakumo.

It must be the combined force of their big, sad puppy eyes, but he caves a little too easily.

“...maa, sure,” Shouta says, typing his number into the small keyboard as well, buttons clicking. “We can work out and spar together after school sometime, if you like.” 

Yamada whoops, and Shirakumo beams while giving him a thumbs-up as they walk out of the school grounds together.

(He’ll be a better classmate this time, he promises himself. He’s made enough mistakes in his previous life, and maybe now he’ll finally learn something from them. They deserve better.)

——— 

After bidding his new classmates farewell, Shouta stops by a pet store on his way home. He’s taken to leaving out food and water around his apartment complex for a small brown stray that hangs around the corner, even though his building doesn’t allow pets. 

When he gets home, he sets out the two dishes around the corner after refilling each. As he leaves, he hears a snuffle, the rattle of kibble against metal, and then the crunch of the pellets under sharp teeth. Shouta allows himself a small smile.

He could never seem to shake his fondness for dogs, not that he tried very hard to overcome it in the first place. 

——— 

(That night, he dreams of a familiar village, tucked away in the bowels of a towering forest. Yet, it’s not a nightmare, as it usually is. 

He’s handing his hat to Naruto. His student is beaming, face so immersed in his delight that his eyes close, while Sakura teases him with a similarly-sized grin. Sasuke lurks in the background, ‘hn’-ing as usual, but even he seems lighter, somehow. Kakashi breathes in, the scent of dog fur and oak wood and _ home _full in his heart. 

He’s done his duty. Konoha passes safely into the hands of its new Hokage.)

Shouta wakes briefly in the night, shifting in his blankets and burrowing deeper into their warmth.

When he falls asleep again, he dreams only of sun-kissed hair, green eyes, and ringing laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the aesthetic of Aizawa and cats, but I couldn’t resist giving him dogs instead for this story.  
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you think!  
(Update: made some edits to the prologue, mostly for formatting/continuity purposes.)


	3. The thrilling saga of unpaid internships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shouta's second year at U.A.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler warnings for Aizawa’s arc in the Vigilantes manga, although my only knowledge of it is from Aizawa’s wiki page. Also, there’s a time skip from last chapter to this chapter.
> 
> I originally planned to get all of Kakashizawa’s (credits to DetectiveBiggs98 for that amazing name!) high-school days done this chapter, but I barely got halfway through all my plot points and reached over double the word count of the last chapter, so I decided to separate it into two chapters. 
> 
> Thank you all again for your kudos and comments!

Shouta dodges Oboro’s palm strike, feinting left before delivering a sweeping kick and knocking the other’s feet out from under him. As he flails, Hizashi lunges explosively for the opening on Shouta’s right, which he knocks aside with his forearm. The blond counters with a low kick aimed at his shin; Shouta simply lifts his leg and swiftly side-kicks Hizashi in the stomach. Oboro, having recovered, drives a fist toward Shouta’s stomach. He grabs Oboro’s arm easily, flipping him over his shoulder and into Hizashi, and both tumble to the ground with twin yelps.

“Not bad,” Shouta eye-smiles, “you two made it a whole minute this time.” 

“Only a minute?!” Hizashi exclaims, scrambling to his feet. 

“To be fair,” Oboro groans, “we’ve made it fifty-nine more seconds than when we first started last year.” He accepts Hizashi’s helping hand, pulling himself off the ground and dusting off his hands. “If I can make it to two minutes on my own against him by the time we graduate, I’ll count it as a miracle.”

Hizashi pouts. “But we’ve been sparring for over a year, and even with the two of us Shouta’s still so good!”

“Maa, don’t forget, I’ve been practicing for a lot longer than you two have,” Shouta says. “Don’t try to rush it. You’re both leagues ahead of the rest of our class already.” He slouches, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Hizashi, you reacted quickly this time, but keep an eye out for my counters. Oboro, you need to evade more, or else you won’t get a chance to land a hit on your opponents.”

He’s… enjoyed sparring with the two of them, more than he thought he would. It’s nice to be able to teach again, even if the people he’s teaching are both taller than him—he hopes he’ll hit his growth spurt soon. And the warm glow in his stomach from seeing how far they’ve come since last year… he tucks the feeling away into the corner of his mind where he keeps the memory of the first time he activated his Quirk, alongside the faces of students long gone and echoing laughter. 

(He manages to stop himself from calling them his “cute little students.” Somehow, he doubts the two would take it well.)

“So, again?” Shouta asks.

He’s met with two groans, and he only chuckles quietly.

——— 

Shouta’s been working on his Hero fighting style these two years. In an encounter with a Villain, he has to rely primarily on his close-combat skills—his Quirk could only erase other Quirks, and didn’t have any sort of physical effect on opponents. Taijutsu can only get him so far; he needs some sort of support weapon, and he (legally) isn’t allowed to carry knives and other bladed weapons until he graduates. 

Inspiration had struck halfway into his first year at U.A., when he’d taken up wearing scarves that he could tuck his face into (old habits die hard). After talking to the Support Department, he’d begun experimenting with a long coil of wire, wrapped in a long cloth woven from carbon nanofibers. He could manipulate it like his old ninja wire, while the cloth broadened his reach and reinforced the wire. 

Oboro had been suitably impressed when he’d first managed to snatch his staff from his hands. “You’re like a full-on ninja now!” 

“Thanks,” Shouta had said wryly.

(Fate really did seem to have a sense of humor.)

——— 

On his way to school the next day, Shouta finds a shivering puppy in an alleyway. Its brown fur is wet and matted from the rain, and its eyes, still tightly shut, are crusted at the edges. As gently as possible, he picks it up and cradles it in his arms. He knows exactly where he’ll bring it... 

...except he’s running late for school. Shouta curses to himself, tucking the tiny thing into his scarf. It’s against the school’s rules, but he’ll just smuggle the puppy into the school and keep it with him. It’s not like he can leave it out in the rain, can he?

Luckily, Shouta makes it to U.A. without further incident, and he slumps into his desk as he coils his scarf into a tiny bed for the puppy in his bag. He’ll just have to be careful not to jostle it too suddenly.

“Sho-uta!” Hizashi bounds up to his desk, dragging out the syllables of his name. “You’re here!”

“Still on time,” he notes drily. Oboro’s seat is empty.

“Man, what’s with all the rain lately? Makes me feel all gloomy all the time!” Hizashi exclaims. 

Shouta hums, but doesn’t say anything as the bell rings, and he zones out lazily as roll-call begins. He wonders where Ob— 

—there’s a sudden crashing noise from the window. Oboro sails in on a cloud through the now-open window, grinning so hard his eyes squint, dust clouding the goggles on his forehead. Shouta droops further into his arms, wistfully recalling the days when he could enter rooms in a similar fashion.

“Shirakumo!” Their teacher admonishes. “You’re late!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Oboro says sheepishly. “I found a lost kitten at the side of the road and I had to help it home!” He scratches the back of his neck with one hand while fiddling with his goggles with the other. 

(A chronically late boy with orange goggles, who smiled too much for his own good, always caught up in helping others… he blinks away the image that suddenly imposes itself over Oboro.

Hell, even their names were too similar.) 

As the commotion surrounding Oboro’s entrance dies down and he takes his seat, their homeroom teacher begins roll-call again. Hizashi leans over to the white-haired boy. 

“Yo! Did you see the latest episode—”

Shouta glances at him, and idly activates his Quirk.

“—last night of...” The blond’s voice fades abruptly in his throat. He glares at Shouta, who only shrugs innocently. Oboro’s shoulders shake, cheeks puffed out from trying not to laugh out loud. Hizashi makes sharp, threatening gestures at him, but like the good little student he is, Shouta’s attention is focused raptly on their teacher.

Who clears his throat. “Ahem, Yamada,” he says, glaring at Hizashi, who abruptly stills his hands and turns red. “Like I was saying, _ some _ students have yet to find an agency willing to accept you for your upcoming Hero Work-Studies. As you know, this will provide you with valuable real-world experience, even more so than your internships last year.” This time, he glares at Oboro and Shouta as well. “Think _ very carefully _ about who and where you conduct these studies. They may also prove vital to helping you find a job at an agency through recommendations once you graduate Now, everyone take out your homework…”

Shouta sighs to himself, slumping further down in his chair as his eyelids droop. How troublesome. Why does he need more experience, when he already has so much shinobi training already? Couldn’t he just go and start his own agency, anyway? Hizashi and Oboro have discussed it enthusiastically before, about how the three of them could function perfectly well as a team. Who needed pre-established agencies?

His attention zones in and out for the rest of class that morning as he continues to ponder the logistics of starting his own agency. He’d take care of accounting, logistics, and the dreaded paperwork (cursed by his own genius); Oboro and Hizashi could take on the media with their flamboyant attitudes and blinding smiles. Their fighting styles were much better-suited to life in the limelight, too, and they could represent their agency with flashy battles with Villains to gain better PR. Shouta would work in the shadows, taking on the dark and dirty parts of Hero work, targeting quieter Villains and keeping the streets safe… 

He loses himself to his daydreaming, their teacher scribbling equations and sentences with chalk that he’s seen countless times before. Before he knows it, the bell rings for lunch.

“Can you guys come to the roof with me real quick?” Oboro asks, amid the scrape of chairs around them. He’s gripping his backpack rather oddly. 

“Whoa,” Hizashi says, eyeing Oboro’s shifty stance, “is that something illegal?”

Shouta clutches his own backpack just as delicately. “Maa, sure. I’m not that hungry anyway.” He moves as smoothly as his combined Hero and shinobi training will allow, desperately trying not to jostle the puppy in his bag. Strangely, Oboro seems to be copying him. 

The three traipse up the stairs to the roof, huddling under the overhang of the wall in order to avoid the rain drizzling around them. 

“So?” Hizashi demands. “Whatcha got in your bag, Oboro?”

The white-haired boy grins shamelessly. “Well, you know that kitten I said caused me to come late today?” He gently unzips his backpack. Hizashi gasps as Oboro scoops a gray tabby kitten out, cuddling it to his chest. “I couldn’t just leave it alone out in the rain!” 

“Now, Oboro, don’t you know that’s against U.A.’s rules?” Shouta says lightly. As he says this, his own backpack begins to emit suspicious, high-pitched whining sounds. Both of the other boys turn wide eyes onto him. 

Ah, no point in trying to hide it, then. He unzips his backpack as well. “...I found a puppy, too.”

“No way!” Hizashi whisper-shouts, immediately reaching out to pet the puppy. “They’re so cute!”  
  
Oboro nods. “Totally worth getting into trouble for. Too bad my apartment won’t allow animals, though…” The kitten purrs softly, nuzzling into Oboro’s palm as he strokes it.

“Mine too,” Shouta mutters. The puppy is sleeping soundly in his arms as Hizashi continues to stroke it, a look of awe on his face as he huddles closer. 

A voice sounds suddenly from behind them. “So, what are you two going to do with them, then?” 

Hizashi and Oboro both jump in surprise, and Shouta blinks lazily at the newcomer, who’s snuck up from the staircase behind them. He recognizes her spiky purple hair from the Sport Festival last year, in the year above him. Her name started with a ‘K’...

“Kayama Nemuri,” she introduces herself, holding a hand out to a sputtering Hizashi. 

Shouta remembers, now. She was the one with the very… revealing outfit (like a certain kunoichi with an affinity for fishnet, and only fishnet). A Sleep Quirk, he thinks, which made her deadly at close range in the finals. Oboro and Hizashi stutter out introductions, while Shouta yawns.

Oboro clutches the kitten to his chest, glaring. “Are you going to report us?” 

“Nah,” Kayama smirks, “too much work.” She steps closer to examine the kitten, shoving her face toward his chest. Oboro stiffens, and Shouta eye-smiles at his friend’s blush. 

“Maa, I won’t be keeping this one,” he says, scratching the puppy’s head idly. “But I already have a good home in mind.” 

Kayama pouts, adjusting her angular glasses. “What about the kitty, then?” She asks. 

“...I don’t know,” Oboro admits. “Like I said, my apartment doesn’t allow pets, and I don’t know about any local shelters.”

“Ah!” Kayama brightens. “In that case, I’d be happy to adopt it!” She reaches out to pet the gray tabby. “I live with my parents, and they’ve been thinking about getting a cat lately, so this actually works out perfectly. I think they don’t want to feel lonely once I graduate and leave home.” Oboro looks hesitant. “C’mon, you’d really be doing me a favor,” she cajoles again.

“Maa, Oboro,” Shouta finally says, “think about it. What else would you be able to do with it? Besides,” he shoots a cutting look at the upperclassman, “I’m sure Kayama-senpai would give it a good home.” Kayama meets his eyes steadily.

“I-I mean,” Oboro stutters, “I guess there’s nothing wrong with it…” He carefully, if reluctantly, passes the little ball of fur to Kayama, and his blush deepens when his fingers brush against hers.

Kayama smirks. “Great! I guess I’ll be in your debt. Gotta look out for my cute kouhais, after all!” With that, she turns and exits the roof, deftly cradling the kitten. Hizashi and Oboro gape after her. Shouta only sighs, slouching into himself and rubbing the puppy’s ears.

(Anko would _ definitely _approve.) 

——— 

After school, Shouta carries the puppy to the alleyway behind his apartment complex. It’d taken several months, but the brown stray living on the street had eventually come to trust him. She pads out from the shadow now to greet him, leaning against his hand for scratches. 

“Hello, Rin,” he says. “I’ve got something for you today.” She wags her tail, teats hanging low and full on her belly. He kneels, allowing her to sniff the puppy. After a moment, she gently picks it up by its scruff, turning and walking toward a dark corner of the street. Shouta follows.

Tucked into a small niche, he sees the sturdy cardboard box Shouta had left it to her on a whim weeks ago, and he sees now that it’s been put to good use. It’s now full of a squirming litter of white-and-brown puppies; as he watches, Rin places the stray puppy into the pile, before curling up contentedly next to her brood.

He chuckles. “Good job, Rin,” he says, petting her on the head.

(And if he starts naming each puppy after one of his nin-dogs, then that’s his own business, isn’t it?)

Shouta leaves Rin to her small family, mentally calculating a new budget for pet supplies.

——— 

Shouta huffs in annoyance, chasing after the Villain through the thick cloud of smoke generated by the robber’s Quirk. His track record this first week at Purple Revolution Agency has been _ spotless _ . He’s taken down too many back-alley criminals to count, put his lifetimes of combat skills into practice flawlessly. And now it’s all about to be ruined by a damn _ smoke Quirk _. 

Behind him, he hears Oboro and Kayama directing panicked civilians away from the scene, allowing him the freedom to take down the Villain. It’s a system that’s always worked, as Shouta has the best combat skills of the three students. Except, right now, his Quirk is useless with how hard his eyes are watering.

Shouta focuses his other senses, honed to perfection through a decade of ANBU missions, but without chakra to augment his abilities, it’s difficult to pinpoint the sound of the robber’s steps over the screams and shouts around him. By the time he finally finds him, the Villain has escaped far enough that Shouta can’t justify chasing after him without back-up, seeing as his partners are still herding civilians at the scene of the crime.

“How troublesome,” he mutters, tapping on his radio to report in to His Purple Majesty, rewinding his capture tool around his neck.

It’s an embarrassing oversight that he’d forgotten to account for the biggest limitation of his Quirk. Shouta hasn’t been reliant on one single sense in so long, too, so perhaps it’s arrogance in thinking he didn’t need any equipment outside his capture tool.

“That sucks!” Hizashi exclaims later, after their shifts have ended and he joins Oboro and Shouta from his own agency. “Did anyone end up catching the Villain?”

“Nope,” Oboro says, as Shouta slumps further down, hands in his pockets. “His Purple Majesty did chew out Mister Gloomy over here, though, for being so upset about it.”

Shouta grumbles. 

Hizashi snickers. “Shouta lost a single Villain out of the hundreds he’s caught, the end is nigh!” He playfully punches Shouta on the arm as his glasses slipping down his nose, green eyes twinkling. “Meanwhile, I’ve caught, like, two Villains with the help of my Pro-Hero, and I’ve never felt more accomplished before in my life!” 

“Talk about it,” Oboro laughs, “Kayama-senpai and I barely have to fight the Villains while Shouta kicks all the ass. And when I do manage to get in on the action I take twice as long to take the Villains down.”

“Maa,” Shouta says, feeling his lips twitch up reluctantly at his friends’ antics. “You do fine, Oboro. At least the civilians like you.” 

“They’d like you too if you smiled more!”

Shouta grumbles again, slouching into his signature pose.

“Hey, hey, Shouta.” Hizashi stretches, linking his hands behind his head. “Maybe you should get something for you eyes. Y’know, like to keep the dust out and stuff in the future.”

“That’s a good idea,” Oboro says thoughtfully. “Actually, why don’t you try my goggles? I got them from the Support Department ‘cause I thought they’d help with the wind in my eyes on my clouds, but I never use ‘em anyway.”

Shouta accepts Oboro’s goggles with a blink. They’re sturdy, with thick rubber framing an orange-tinted acrylic lens. And most importantly— 

His heart skips a beat.

—they look almost exactly like Obito’s goggles. 

He takes a breath, slipping the band over his head and settling the goggles on his face, which seal snugly around his skin. Shouta blinks, looking at his friends through the lenses.

“Damn, Shouta!” Hizashi cheers. “Those look badass!”

“They do look pretty good,” Oboro agrees, flashing him a thumbs-up.

“...maa, won’t you need these later, Oboro?” 

“I’ll just ask the Support Department!” The white-haired boy grins. “Just think of it as a favor from a friend.”

Shouta pulls the goggles off, letting them hang around his neck by the straps. “Thanks, then,” he murmurs. “I’ll take good care of them.”

(A precious gift from one of his few precious people in this world. He grips the goggles in his hands, and wonders if Obito would be proud.)

Hizashi and Oboro laugh and chatter around him. With every step, he can feel their shoulders brushing against his, and he loses himself to the feeling of warm afternoon sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know what you think!


	4. Wait, this is nothing like High School Musical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shouta's second year continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler warning for the Vigilantes manga, although again I only know the plot from the wiki page on Aizawa's background.  
Also, I honestly have no idea how All Might's timeline works, so for this story he's just starting out on his Hero career during Kakashizawa's school days.
> 
> Not sure I'm very satisfied with how this chapter turned out (probably because I suck at writing angst but it happened anyway), but I wasn't making any more real progress on it so I might as well post it and move on. Please enjoy!

“Hello, everybody! My name is All Might, and I am pleased to be back here today at U.A. to talk to such wonderful students as yourselves!” The tall, muscular blond man bows.

The class applauds politely. Shouta eyes the man balefully, and wonders why all the blonds in his life seem to have so much energy before ten in the morning.

“As you all know,” their homeroom teacher adds, “All Might is a graduate of the Hero Course at U.A., and he has been through everything that you all are currently going through. It’s not every day that a rising Hero like him makes time to speak to high-school students, so make sure to pay attention to everything he says!”

“Ah, that is a very flattering introduction, thank you…” he demurs good-naturedly. “Well, I am sure you have a lot of questions about the Hero Industry and such, so please ask me anything!”

(The Hero’s smile is all gleaming teeth, stretched as big as his face will allow. With a pang, he thinks of the same smile on a blur of green, challenging him to rock-paper-scissors tournaments, eating contests, and handstand races, all while shouting ridiculous declarations across the village. 

He misses Gai.)

Oboro’s hand immediately flies up. “How many Villains do you fight in a day?”

“Well, it depends on my exact location at the time, but I average around two to three. Of course, I always hope I do not encounter any!”

“How many interviews have you given?!” Hizashi shouts. Other students chime in after him, and All Might soon has his hands full answering Class 2-A’s questions.

“Is it cool being a Hero?”

“Are you going to start your own Agency?”

“Who are your Sidekicks?” Their questions blur together as the Hero answers them as quickly as he can.

Shouta waits for a lull in the questions before he raises his hand, eyes hooded and voice dull. “What’s your dream as a Hero?” 

All Might pauses, looking at him. “...a good question,” he begins slowly. “I suppose, as any Hero might, I dream of peace. More than that, I dream of being able to inspire others to dream of peace—I want to be a symbol to people, a Hero whose mere presence assures everyone, ‘it will be okay.’” He takes a breath. “I believe everyone deserves to live without fear, and so I dream that I can make a world like that possible.” 

There’s a beat as the class absorbs All Might’s uncharacteristically grave answer, before exploding into whispers and shouts of “so cool!” as the questions renew their intensity.

Shouta slumps into his arms, tuning out his classmates to mull over the Hero’s answer. The man’s speech and mannerisms initially made him think of his friend and rival, lost to another lifetime, but— 

His goal for peace, his dedication to becoming the best for the sake of others rather than himself, hell, even his spiked blond hair— 

(It seems Minato-sensei’s dream lives on, no matter what world or life he finds himself in.)

Shouta has always known he’s suited to be an underground Hero. He doesn’t seek glory or fame, doesn’t want his face plastered across billboards and his voice emanating from every TV across the country. It’s Heroes like All Might that put on a face for the public, garnering their loyalty and adoration, making a name for the Hero industry as a whole. It’s a powerful tool. And maybe, with Heroes like All Might, it might even fall into the right hands.

  
  


———

  
  


“We should totally start our own Hero agency after graduating,” Hizashi says after their daily sparring match one day. He slings a towel around his sweaty neck, stretching his arms and panting slightly.

Oboro takes a long drink of water. “It would be a lot of hard work,” he says thoughtfully. “We’d have to build everything from the ground up, from our branding to our physical location, not to mention all the paperwork I _ know _you couldn’t make heads or tails of, Hizashi.”

“But I bet Shouta could! He could handle all the logistics of it, since his brain is so big.”

“Maa,” Shouta chuckles, “you just don’t want anyone to find out how terrible you are at math, Hizashi.” The blond yelps indignantly. “But, I suppose taking on the heavy burden of paperwork would be worth it to ensure our Agency doesn’t run itself into the ground. But don’t think I’d stay for long if you turned me into a paperwork Hero,” he says in a teasing tone.

“We’d make a great combat team together too!” Oboro adds. “I’m definitely the heavy-hitter of our group, and Hizashi’s one-hundred percent best at diverting attention. If we keep Villains distracted, Shouta could be our back-up and surprise attacker, since you’re the best at stealth and close combat.”

“Teamwork makes the dream work!” Hizashi cheers.

“Hizashi could handle our PR pretty well, too,” Oboro says. “I mean, he could just shout on TV until people took notice of us.”

“But you’d for sure be the face of our agency!” Hizashi exclaims. “Everybody loves you, Oboro! And Shouta could take all our stealth missions, and our Agency could have a cool-ass logo with lightning stripes and flames…” 

As Hizashi rambles on, lost in his daydreams, Shouta packs away his exercise gear. An Agency of their own—he’d have a team of his own again. Friends he could rely on and trust. Doing good in the world as Heroes.

(It’s a dream he hasn’t quite dared to allow enter his heart until now.)

The three clean up around the gym, heading out into the crisp winter air outside. Oboro and Hizashi are still spouting plans for their hypothetical Agency, growing more and more excited with each idea.

Shouta breaks into their conversation. “Don’t forget, we have to graduate in order to start our Agency. And to do that, we need to pass our upcoming calculus test…” He eyes Hizashi.

“Heh, about that…” the blond smiled sheepishly. “Can you help me study again, Shouta? I just can’t pay attention in class, and you explain it way better anyways! Plea-a-a-se?” He blinks, green eyes wide and begging.

“Actually, I could use some help on integrals, too,” Oboro admits, scratching his head.

“Maa, maa,” Shouta says mildly, tucking his scarf against his face, “you two better buy me lunch again for all this free labor I’m providing.”

Oboro laughs as Hizashi whoops. Shouta eye-smiles, following behind the two, and they walk together in the afternoon sun.

  
  


———

  
  


It’s been a quiet shift in Tasomiya Ward. His Purple Majesty assigned Shouta and Oboro to patrol and search for Villains, but everything is so peaceful that Shouta’s tempted to take out the pocket romance novel he’d discovered the other day at the book store.

(The book is trashy as all hell, and he already loves it.)

His goggles and capture tool rest comfortably around his neck, and he absent-mindedly reaches up to adjust them as he glances around, before something further ahead catches his eye.

“Maa, Oboro,” he murmurs. “Do those children over there look a bit lost to you?”

His partner follows his line of vision toward the small group of children. They look to be about three or four years old, decked out in identical uniforms. A couple are sitting on the concrete, while the rest seem to be staring around aimlessly.

“Whoa! Are they okay?” Oboro hurries over time the group, Shouta following sedately behind. “Hey, kids! Where’s your parents? Or your teacher? Do you need help?”

One of the boys puffs out his chest. “We don’t got a teacher!”

Oboro frowns. “But you’re wearing uniforms…”

“We’re not s’posed to talk to strangers, ‘member?” A girl in the back whispers. Instantly, the group hushes and the toddlers eye them suspiciously.

“Ah, you’re right, you shouldn’t talk to strangers,” Oboro flounders, “except, I mean, you can talk to us…”

“But you’re a stranger!”

Shouta decides to take pity on his partner and intervene, ducking in front of Oboro. As much as he enjoys watching the white-haired boy grow flustered, it’s getting them nowhere anytime soon. 

“Maa, we’re Heroes, don’t worry,” he says, crouching down to the children’s eye-level. “You can call me Shouta, and my friend is named Oboro. We’re here to help.”

A red-haired girl pipes up. “We don’t need help, we’re ‘venturers! We can go wherever we wanna!” The rest of the children clamor similarly.

“Maa, a group of adventurers? Where are you adventuring to?”

“Um,” the girl scrunches up her eyes in concentration, “over the rainbow!” The logo on her uniform looks like that of a local daycare, Shouta notes. “The book Naomi-sensei read said there’s treasure there!”

“Yeah, yeah! We’re treasure huntin’!”

“Treasure, hmm?” He says. “Have you found any yet?”

“Nope,” the first boy who’d spoken says. “We’ve been searching all morning, but Ren an’ Keiji an’ Mei got tired, so we’re takin’ a break.”

“You know, Oboro and I are actually treasure-Heroes. We can help you find the rainbow, since it’s up in the sky.” He nudges Oboro

“Oh, yeah!” Oboro says, catching on. “I can bring you guys to the clouds and we can keep searching for your treasure there!” He activates his Quirk, forming a solid cloud large enough for the children to ride on. The group gasps as it hovers lowly in the air.

“Whoa, cool!” “I wanna get on first!” “No, me first!” “Treasure!”

They manage to coax all the children into the cloud, each one seated securely. Shouta takes the lead in front, leading the cloud back toward the daycare with the logo he’d noticed on their uniforms. Oboro hops on the cloud, managing the cloud and ensuring no children fall off as they giggle and climb over the white-haired teen. Dodging traffic, they make their way back quickly. The children are full of nonsensical questions, and he responds with equally-outlandish answers, tone full of humor.

As they near the street of the daycare, Oboro walks over to join Shouta. “I never thought, out of all of us, you’d be the best with kids,” he says. “Wait ‘till I tell Hizashi, heh.”

“Maa, I get plenty of practice from dealing with you two.” 

A thoughtful look crossed his friend’s face. “You know, you’re actually a good teacher, Shouta. You’re always tutoring us and helping us. Maybe you should think about getting a job as one in the future. Like a Hero teacher at U.A.”

“...maybe,” he murmurs. 

(He’s considered it before. The thought of taking on that kind of responsibility again… it terrifies him. Especially considering all the mistakes he made last time.

So why does it feel so right?)

They move to cross the final street to the daycare.

Something prickles at Shouta’s senses, and he grabs Oboro’s arm to stop him. “Something’s wrong—”

A cloud of dust rises suddenly in front of them as a building crumbles with a _ BOOM. _There’s a lumbering silhouette emerging from the wreckage, and Shouta slips on his goggles as Oboro stumbles. His heart races. He knows he can take a Villain of that size, albeit not as easily without chakra to enhance his jumps and hits. But Oboro is still here, the children are still here, and he finally catches the clear glimpse of the Villain as the smoke starts to clear— 

He looks like Gamabunta, Shouta thinks detachedly, if the enormous summons were grayer, rounder, and infinitely uglier. The Villain leets out a roar as Shouta snaps into action, grabbing a fistful of Oboro’s shirt while he loops his capture tool around the cloud of children, dragging them away from the collapsed building as quickly as he can. 

Their radios crackle to life in their ears. _ “Evacuate the neighborhood immediately!” _ He can hear Kayama’s voice, tinny and panicked. _ “There’s a Villain attack; his name is Garvey, and his Quirk allows him to store up attacks to use later!” _

“A little too late for that,” he grits out in response. “The Villain’s right in front of us. What are his weaknesses? How do we stop him?” The few civilians around them flee, screaming in terror. He hears Oboro herding the cloud backward behind him, and he spares a glance to ensure all seven of them are still safely together.

_ “His skin is tough like a frog,” _ His Purple Highness says. _ “Only his eyes aren’t protected. But watch out, he uses his mouth to release the power he stores _ . _ Be careful with your Quirks; I’m trying to keep him contained, but using my Quirk on him only makes him stronger. _”

“Shouta!” Oboro shouts. “I can fly up on a cloud to reach his head! If I can keep him distracted and help His Purple Highness, you can take the kids and get them to safety!”

“No!” He says. “I can’t leave you behind on your own!” Yet as the words leave his mouth, Shouta’s heart drops. Oboro’s right. His Quirk is better-suited for this battle, and they can’t leave the children defenseless. 

(But the dust in the air, the deafening roar of falling rubble, the pressure of the goggles against his face—an image of a face flashes through his mind, his friend half-buried and smiling at him, even as the world crumbles into nothing around them.

For perhaps the first time in this life, fear settles like a stone in his stomach.)

Shouta hesitates for a split second. The cries of the children ring in his ears as he glances over his shoulder at them. The red-haired girl, whose name is Kanna, sobs, tear tracks streaking through the grit on her face. Dust clings to her hair, bleaching it pink in the stark afternoon sunlight.

In the end, was there ever even a choice?

He turns away from Oboro, gathering the children up in his capture tool. “Be careful!” He yells to his friend. “I’m coming back for you! Just keep him distracted!”

“Go! Hurry!” 

Shouta runs.

His capture tool wraps around all the children, tugging them along as he searches for a safe place to take shelter. Their wails echo in the air. 

“Don’t be scared,” he says to them, huffing out in between breaths as he sprints. “I’ll protect you all. I don’t let my friends die.” He tries to project the sincerity of his promise into his voice. “You’re going to be okay.” He thinks their cries quiet a bit, but it could also just be his imagination. He continues to try to soothe them anyway.

Shouta dodges a piece of debris, swerving and jumping down into a clear portion of the pavement. At the end of the street, he sees a team of Emergency-Response personnel evacuating the remaining civilians. If he can just get to the end of the street— 

A slab of concrete slams into the ground in front of him, cutting off his route. He spins around, pressing the now-screaming children behind him. Garvey lumbers over them, low and rumbling grunts rolling over them. 

He doesn’t see Oboro. 

“Oboro!” He shouts into his radio piece, hands gripping his capture tool as he widens his stance. “Oboro, where are you?” Static echoes in his ears.

Shouta sees only crumpled debris behind Garvey, and his heart drops. He faces the Villain alone.

_ “Don’t worry about me!” _ He hears suddenly, dimly. _ “You can do it, Shouta! We’re all rooting for you!” _It’s buried under layers of static, but he hears the voice.

His hands tighten on his capture tool, and he takes a deep breath. 

_ “You’re a Hero!” _

(He is the Rokudaime Hokage. He is the Copy-cat Nin, the student of the Yondaime, last of the Hatake clan. 

Teacher to Team Seven, who grew up to be the most-feared shinobi that Konoha had ever seen.

The half-buried face of a name long-gone flashes before his eyes again.

He is Hatake Kakashi. He is Aizawa Shouta.

And he is a Hero.)

He lets out a yell, and charges at the Villain before him.

  
  


——— 

  
  


The hospital examination room is sterile, empty, motionless. White light bathes everything in a ghostly hue, cold and impassive. There’s media out there somewhere, covering the extent of the Villain attack. Some of the reporters want to talk to the teenaged Hero-in-training who took down the monstrous frog Villain that afternoon, he knows. He hopes they’ll give up and leave soon. 

Shouta sits, waiting for a doctor to come clear him with a clean bill of health. He’s not a priority at the hospital right now. He knows he’s fine. He’s completely and utterly fine.

The door creaks open and closed, but he doesn’t look up.

“Shouta?” Hizashi’s voice is hushed. “I just heard about— I came as fast as I could— Are you—” he stammers. It’s the quietest he’s ever heard him speak. 

He clenches his hands on his lap, hair falling in his face. He can’t bring himself to speak. 

“I—” Hizashi begins again, before stopping. Wordlessly, he climbs onto the examination table next to him. After a pause, the blond gently rests his hand on top of Shouta’s, leaning into his shoulder.

And if Shouta leans a bit harder into Hizashi, he doesn’t comment. 

The two simply sit and breathe. 

——— 

(When His Purple Majesty had found him, Shouta had been pulling an arm out of the rubble. With the arm came the body of a white-haired boy, face lax and peaceful as if he’s asleep. 

He should have done better. He knew what would happen, how it would turn out; he’s lived it once before. If he had done better, he wouldn’t have had to live it all again.

Never again, he vows to himself. He won’t let his friends die again. Even if he has to stand against the path of Fate itself, he _ will _do better this time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, we'll finally be moving on to the main manga/anime canon! Excited to finally get to introduce Deku and the squad :D  
Thank you for your comments and kudos, and please let me know what you think!


	5. Filler episodes shouldn’t count as real episodes, change my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, fuck the paperwork”  
― E.L. James, Fifty Shades of Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me after reading chapters 253-254 of the manga:  
*Dousing myself in gasoline and lighting a match* Aight I’mma head out
> 
> Here’s a fluffier chapter to get us started in main manga/anime canon! This chapter has very large time skip to the year before Izuku graduates middle school and enters U.A.  
Spoiler warning for ch. 254 of the manga, concerning a detail about Aizawa expelling the previous class of students before his current class.  
Also, warning for Bakugo’s language.
> 
> As always, thanks for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks!

_ “This just in, listeners! Hit funk-pop band, BRADIO, dropped their highly-anticipated new single this morning…” _

Hizashi’s voice pours from his radio, the patter of rain tapping against the window panes. Shouta shrugs on his Hero costume jacket to the soft crackle of the blond’s evening show. One could hardly call Hizashi’s voice soothing, but he’s (reluctantly) fond of the enthusiastic yelling. 

He tips the last of a glass of water into the pot of the cactus on his windowsill (Mr. Ukki the Second), setting the cup into the sink to deal with later. 

_ “...so let’s give ‘Flyer’ a listen!”  _ Rock music begins pouring out of the radio speakers. 

Shouta wraps his capture tool securely around his neck and above his orange goggles before double-checking the straps of his various knives, hidden under his sleeves, collar, and boots. He glances at himself in the mirror on his door, nearly blending into the shadows around his apartment. 

The face staring back at him is mostly hidden beneath the white cloth of his capture tool. His dark hair is swept over his left eye, while his right droops sleepily. He’s slightly taller now than he was in his previous life, Shouta notes idly. Of course, that doesn’t stop Hizashi from lording his two extra centimeters of height over him at every opportunity.

Shouta clicks off his radio mid-song. The digital clock reads 11:30. He steps out of his apartment, locking the door behind him before tucking his key securely into zip-up pouch. 

As he exits his building, he stops by the small lean-to hidden around the corner. There’s a flurry of whines as the large mass of fur separates into individual dogs, who nudge their cold noses into his leg.

“Maa,” he greets, “no need to get your paws wet on account of me.” He fishes dog biscuits from his pocket, passing one out to each dog. “There you go, Bisuke, Akino. Bull…” 

After he runs out of treats, he pats the smallest one on the head. “I’ll be heading out, Pakkun. Be good while I’m gone.”

The dogs yip in response. 

(Sometimes, if he listens hard enough, he can almost pretend they’re speaking to him.)

He straightens up, dusting off his pants before walking away into the rain. It’s time for him to go to work.

——— 

Shouta whips his capture tool, wrapping it around the Villain behind his back and immobilizing him, while simultaneously landing an underhanded punch in another Villain’s solar plexus, sending the man reeling. Two more charge at him from either side, yelling. He blocks one by reeling in her mummified teammate to intercept her blow, and arcs his leg to connect his steel-toed boots into the other man’s temple. He drops instantly.

Two down. Two to go.

The Villain he’d punched has recovered, and appears to telepathically hurl a large piece of rubble at him with his Quirk. Shouta activates his own Quirk, a familiar burn in his eyes. The rock drops in mid-air. He swings his capture tool around like a pendulum, and the bound Villain slams the telepathic one into the concrete wall; at the same time, the motion wraps the remainder of the white cloth around the female Villain.

He huffs. Even with four of them, the fight against the Villains had barely lasted a minute.

Shouta secures the two wriggling cocoons and the unconscious man he’d kicked in the temple, ensuring they won’t be able to escape. After, he strolls over to the last man, who’s lying, dazed, on the wet asphalt. 

He pins the man down by the collar. “Maa, maa, don’t look so scared,” Shouta eye-smiles. “I just have a few questions to ask of you.”

The man sputters.

“You see,” Shouta continues, “I find it hard to believe that a petty group of criminals like yourselves had the equipment and planning power necessary to take on a high-profile job like the ransacking of the National Bank you orchestrated last week. What I want to know is how you all managed to jump from small-time street thefts to such a sophisticated robbery in little over a month’s time.” 

The Villain is silent.

“Maa, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Shouta shifts his grip on the man minutely; the man groans at the sudden pain. “I just want a name, or names, is all. Do you want me to continue?” He increases the pressure.

“No! P-please!” The man gasps. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk!” Shouta stops. He swallows, before continuing shakily. “I-I… we met a man, in July, who gave us the supplies and the plan. He didn’t let us see his face, but he dressed real nice and talked fancy. He said he has people of power backing him up… I have no idea who he is, I swear!”

Shouta hums. “Did he say anything else? Want anything in return for his expensive equipment?”

“Uh…” the man pauses. “He wanted us to join his group. A club for Villains, or something. Didn’t sound like it actually existed or anything, but we promised we’d join if our robbery went good.” 

“Ah,” Shouta says. Troubling. “Thank you for your cooperation, Robber-san.” With that, he promptly pinches the man’s neck, rendering him unconscious and slinging his limp body over his shoulder. 

As he starts in the direction of the nearest police station, towing the rest of the robbers behind him with his capture tool, he ruminates on the Villain’s confession. A group of organized Villains… Mobs and gangs weren’t unusual in the inner city, per se, but he hadn’t heard of any unrest in any existing crime syndicates recently. Was it an entirely new group? He’d have to keep a close eye on it. 

But in the meantime, it was nearing 3:00 a.m., and he had a new class of cute, wide-eyed children to meet in the morning. 

At least as a teacher, he could doze off whenever he wanted now.

——— 

“Shouta-a-a-a!” Hizashi shouts across the teacher lounge, just as he does every single day. He bounds over to Shouta’s slumped form, slinging an arm around his shoulders and shoving his face into Shouta’s space. “Man! I can’t believe you expelled  _ another  _ class! That’s stone-cold, dude!”

“It’s not like U.A. isn’t re-enrolling them,” Shouta grumbles. 

“Yeah, but it’s still kinda mean…” 

He yawns. “My class, my rules. And they needed the lesson, anyhow. Their actions have real-world consequences when they’re real Heroes.” 

(Not to mention, the expressions on their faces had been absolutely priceless. Completely worth the massive amount of paperwork, and almost as good as Team Seven’s reactions, when his cute students were fresh from the Academy. Ahh, good times.)

Seeing as he won’t be getting his nap anytime soon, Shouta flips open his worn pocket romance. Maybe it’s time to get a new book. There’s that recent one from the U.S. that came out recently, about something gray or something, that has absolutely terrible reviews online and is apparently filled with completely trashy smut. Worth considering…

Shouta stands. “Maa, time for me to head out, anyway. Catch you later, Hizashi.” 

“Bye, Shouta! See you tomorrow!”

Waving goodbye, he exits the lounge and heads out of the school. He needs to swing by the pet store again, he’s running low on dog treats. 

As he walks, he turns over the conversation with the Villains he’d captured last night again in his head. There’s something about the man’s story that nags at him, especially the mysterious figure offering Villains support. A benefactor for Villains is not an idea that bodes well… he’ll send the word out through his underground network tonight.

Distracted by his thoughts, Shouta’s feet carry him on a different route than he usually takes to the pet store. He passes by a middle school he’s never seen before, although the name looks vaguely familiar. School’s let out for the day, but several children hang around in the courtyard, chatting and playing on the concrete. He doesn’t pay them any mind at first, but as he walks by, he can’t help but overhear— 

“Fuck off, shitty Deku!” A red-eyed blond snarls, shoving a green-haired kid, who cowers. Shouta’s between them in a flash. 

“Maa,” he says, slouching over the blond. “I’m sure there’s no need for that kind of language. Or violence.”

“Who the hell are you?!” The boy replies. 

“...u-um…” the green-haired boy stutters behind him, “I-I’m sure Kaa-chan didn’t mean it that way…”

“Shut up, nerd!” The angry one says. Two others flank behind him, both looking like stereotypical school-yard bullies.

Shouta’s lazy posture doesn’t change, but he allows a glint of steel show in his right eye, which the green-haired boy can’t see from behind him. “Maa, maa, I think I know what I saw. Why don’t you boys run along home now? It’s getting late and it sure would be a shame for you to run into trouble.” He eye-smiles.

Thankfully, the angry one has enough intelligence to recognize the thinly-veiled command, as well as the utter lack of sense in trying to challenge Shouta.

“...hmph. This isn’t over, Deku!” He yells, before stomping off with his lackeys and out of the courtyard. 

“Are you alright?” Shouta crouches in front of the remaining boy.

“U-um, yeah.” The boy wipes at his eyes. “T-thank you, mister, but you didn’t have to do that…” 

“Don’t worry about it—what’s your name?” Shouta says.

“M-Midoriya Izuku…” 

“Don’t worry about it, Izuku. I’m a Hero, after all, and my job is to protect people, even in situations like this.”

The moment he says ‘Hero,’ the boy does a complete one-eighty, green eyes rounding in excitement. “Y-you’re a Hero? What’s your Hero name? What’s your Quirk?”

“Maa,” Shouta says, scratching his head. “My Hero name is Eraserhead, and my Quirk is called ‘Erase.’ It, well, it erases Quirks.”

“That’s so cool!” Midoriya exclaims, frantically whipping out a notebook. “Do you fight Villains? Or rescue people from disasters? Are you with an Agency? How long have you been a Hero? Where are—”

“...slow down there, Midoriya-kun…” Shouta scratches his head. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” He jumps. “It’s a bad habit of mine, I’m so sorry for bothering you, I’ll be on my way now.”

“Maa, maa, I don’t mind answering some questions, but maybe you should be heading home soon. It’s going to get dark soon,” Shouta says, “and you shouldn’t be out here alone. Which way do you live? I can walk you home.” He stands up.

“A-ah! Please don’t worry about it, Eraserhead-san!” Midoriya flutters his hands. “I don’t want to inconvenience you further! I’ll just be headed off that way.” He points.

“It’s no problem, I’m headed in that direction anyway.” The pet store’s in the opposite direction, actually, but he can’t exactly abandon a child to walk home on his own after breaking up a confrontation with his bullies. “Besides, don’t you want your questions answered? We can keep talking on the way.”

“Y-yes! Thank you very much!” The boy bows, clutching his worn notebook to his chest. 

In the ten minutes it takes to walk Midoriya to his building, Shouta answers a staggering range of questions fired at a hundred miles-per-second, slowing his pace so the green-haired boy can keep up with his longer stride. 

He drops Midoriya off just outside his building, who stammers thank-you’s endlessly before scrambling up the staircase. Shouta lingers in the shadows for a moment, watching him enter his apartment room before walking away.

That’s his good deed for the day, he supposes. At least Midoriya’s a good kid. Now he has to navigate back to the pet store…

(And if he carefully notes the location of Midoriya’s school, well, one can never go to the pet store too often, can they?)

——— 

When Shouta finally arrives back at his apartment after dinner, there’s a package waiting on his doorstep. He doesn’t recall ordering anything for himself recently, so he picks the box up carefully and closely examines the tag. 

It’s labelled as a gift purchase. His birthday  _ is  _ coming up next week. Did someone get him a pre-emptive present?

Unlocking his door, he shucks off his boots, muttering, “Tadaima,” to the empty room. Dropping his school bag onto his couch, he grabs a pair of scissors from the kitchen and carefully cuts the box open.

It’s a book. Not just any book, it’s the exact book he’d been looking up earlier.  _ Fifty Shades of Grey _ , in all its raunchy and dubious glory. 

There’s a note from the sender in the box: 

_HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ _i still can’t believe you like this stuff, i had to get it shipped to you cuz i couldn’t be seen in public giving this to you. anyway, hope you like it, weirdo!!!!!!!_

Shouta resolves never again to research books where Hizashi can see his search history. 

(The book is just as bad as he thought it’d be. He absolutely loves it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	6. Don't burden yourself with the secrets of dumb people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izuku participates in the U.A. Entrance Exams and almost gives Shouta a heart attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we *finally* get to start on the actual plot of the series! Sorry for the delay in this one, I’ve been spending time with my family during the winter holidays as well as pursuing a different plot bunny—I literally had a dream about a fic where Hidan gets transported into the world of BNHA and inflicts himself on all our favorite characters, so naturally I had to write it. It's definitely a lot more crack-ish and lighthearted than this fic and an absolute blast to write. Check it out [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22188493) if you like!
> 
> Ok, now that the shameless self-plug is over, please enjoy this chapter!

“...aaaand welcome to the U.A. Entrance Exams!”

Shouta isn’t sure what sort of response Hizashi was expecting; the prospective students are all terrified out of their pants for the upcoming exam, and nobody has the presence of mind to cheer for Present Mic’s introduction. He makes a mental note to tease him about it after the exams.

For the moment, however, he settles on observing the hundreds of children hunched over the written exam, pencils scribbling like a horde of angry paperwork chuunin. He scans the crowd idly, before spotting a shock of green hair, one he hasn’t seen since the middle schools let out for the summer.

(He knows he has to be impartial toward potential students, just like when he was on ANBU’s rota to watch Sensei’s kid. Even so, he can’t help the warm glow in his stomach upon spotting the kid here.)

Next to Midoriya is a kid who looks exactly like Ingenium. Iida  _ did  _ mention a kid brother… what a coincidence, that he’s the same age as Midoriya. 

Honestly, there’s nothing interesting about the written exam, and Shouta can’t fathom why the teachers all gather around to watch so eagerly. He might as well sleep until the practical exam starts, and he’ll have seen just as much action as everyone else.

He lets out a jaw-cracking yawn, and Nemuri sends him a glare over the top of her glasses. Shouta only eye-smiles at her in response, before drawing his obnoxiously-yellow sleeping bag tighter around himself and settling in for that nap. 

——— 

“ —and did you know Hawks is the youngest Pro-Hero _ ever _ ?!” Midoriya babbles, eyes round with excitement. “Not only that, but he’s the fastest Hero to ever make it onto the Hero Billboard’s Top Ten chart! He’s so cool, even if he didn’t go to U.A.! And people think his Quirk only lets him fly, but it also makes his vision  _ really  _ good and allows him to move  _ really  _ fast!”

Shouta nods along as he reads, as per their custom. Midoriya does the talking, he does the listening, and nobody calls the kid any uninspired, juvenile nicknames while they walk to Midoriya’s apartment. 

“Can you move as fast as Hawks, Eraserhead-san?” The kid’s asking. 

He eye-smiles. “If I did, don’t you think Hawks would be jealous?” 

Midoriya looks dumbfounded for a second.

“...just kidding. Like you said, his speed is Quirk-related, right? I can only move at normal speeds.” He flips a page in his book.

“I guess… but you’re still the fastest person I’ve seen without a speed-related Quirk, Eraserhead-san!” Midoriya perks back up. “Did you train to get that fast?”

“Of course,” Shouta says. “It takes years of practice. That’s why I’m a Pro-Hero, after all. I worked hard to get to this level.” 

Midoriya’s eyes are shining again (did they ever ache from opening so large?). “Can you tell me more about becoming a Pro-Hero?”

“Maa,” he says, scratching the back of his head, “it takes a lot of time and hard work, like I said. But you could start by going to a school with a Hero program or course, or go to a Hero school.” They turn the corner. “You’re about to graduate from middle school this year, right, Midoriya-kun? Are you considering high school applications yet?”

“U-um,” Midoriya says, “actually, I was thinking about applying to U.A.” He hesitates, before hunching in on himself. “I-I mean, it’s my dream to be a Hero, but…” The green-haired boy slows to a stop, turning to face Shouta fully, taking a deep breath. 

“...Eraserhead-san, do you think someone like me could become a Hero? Someone like me… someone doesn’t have a Quirk?”

“You know,” Shouta says, reaching out and ruffling the boy’s hair. “I once knew someone who, like you, didn’t have any, ah, Quirk he could use. But he trained hard, regardless, and he became one of the most heroic people I have ever known. A genius of hard work, he called himself.”

“Is he a Hero?” Midoriya asks, eyes huge. 

“Aa, he isn’t—around, anymore,” Shouta says lightly. 

“O-oh, I’m sorry,” the boy wilts. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Maa, it’s quite alright,” Shouta eye-smiles. “Anyway, what I meant to say was that you remind me of him, Midoriya-kun. And just like him, I think you could become a fine Hero one day.”

“R-really?!” Shouta hadn’t thought it possible, but Midoriya’s eyes get even rounder and larger. “You think so?”

“Of course,” he chuckles. 

Midoriya launches himself at Shouta. “Thank you, Eraserhead-san!” He beams up at him. “I’ll make your friend proud!”

“I’m sure he already is.” 

——— 

The practical portion of the Entrance Exam starts off with a bang. Literally. The angry explosion child, who Shouta recalls from his first encounter with Midoriya, screams obscenities at the students around him and blasts his way through a robot almost immediately.

He’s exactly the same as before, then.

At any rate, the rest of the students flood into their respective arenas. His coworkers  _ ooh  _ and  _ aah  _ at the flashier Quirks several of them employ, and he eyes the rapidly-accumulating points next to several of their names. Iida’s brother seems to be doing alright, while Explosion Child—Bakugo Katsuki, his profile reads—quickly takes the lead in his area. 

Shouta slouches lazily, one visible eye scanning the screens as Hizashi provides running commentary. He tells himself he’s not looking for anyone in particular, just gauging the scope of the examinees this year— 

He spies Midoriya in Arena 3, stumbling through the streets of the city with a shell-shocked expression. His point counter sits at a pitiful zero, and Shouta winces internally. Maybe it was too much to subtly push the kid into taking the U.A. Entrance Exam, considering its heavy emphasis on flashy offensive Quirks. He’s certainly intelligent enough to make the General Course; if Midoriya isn’t too discouraged after this test, he can set his not-inconsiderate determination into transferring into the Hero Course…

He’s shaken out of his thoughts right as the zero-pointer erupts out of the center of the city. Shocked cries echo across the screens as students flee, Nezu cackling maniacally in the background as they watch. 

Shouta’s gaze sharpens when he spots Midoriya amidst the wreckage closest to the monstrous robot. The kid has the right idea—running the hell away—but he doubts he can move fast enough without some sort of Quirk or years of endurance training. Yet even as he watches, Midoriya stops next to a girl trapped in rubble—Uraraka Ochako, 63 points, very nifty gravity-manipulating Quirk. The zero-pointer looms over them, Uraraka screams for Midoriya to run, Shouta’s heart thuds in his chest— 

And Midoriya launches himself at the zero-pointer, energy crackling around his limbs as he punches through Nezu’s abomination. Pride flares through Shouta’s chest as his co-workers murmur in shock. It’s the first time an examinee has taken on the zero-pointer like that; if that doesn’t score Midoriya enough rescue points to gain him admittance, he’ll eat the Hokage’s hat. 

Wait. Didn’t Midoriya say he didn’t have a Quirk?

Shouta’s eye twitches. How did he manage to get saddled with the problem children every (life)time?

It’s easy enough to hunt down Midoriya at Recovery Girl’s little clinic after the practical exam concludes. There’s someone already inside the room with the kid, however, and Shouta lurks quietly outside the door, listening in on the conversation behind the closed door, easily picking up hushed voices thanks to a lifetime of espionage missions. 

“Are you alright, my boy?” He blinks at the familiar baritone. 

“Y-yes!” Midoriya. “Recovery Girl healed me right up!” A beat. “A-ah… will I have to break a bone every single time I want to use your Quirk?”

“Well… it will take your body some time to adjust to the power level of One for All. You will need to continue training your strength—”

Shouta opens the door and slouches into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. All Might—Yagi in this form—and Midoriya both jump guiltily. 

“E-eraserhead-san!” Midoriya exclaims. “You’re here too!” 

“Yo,” he salutes. And without preamble, “that’s All Might’s Quirk you used back there, isn’t it?”

A beat. Yagi and Midoriya’s faces are frozen in shock, expressions almost comical. He feels the need to reach out and pat Yagi on the cheek. 

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” he says. 

“How—how did you figure it out?” Midoriya splutters. 

Shouta shrugs. “I’m a genius.” 

“I—” Yagi’s looking around the room nervously. “Aizawa-san, you absolutely cannot tell anybody—”

“Maa, what part about ‘your secret’s safe with me’ don’t you understand?”

“The circumstances surrounding my Quirk are sensitive and I have many enemies—”

“And as a teacher of U.A.,” Shouta interrupts smoothly, “I would do everything in my power to ensure the safety of a potential student, on top of my duty to civilians as a Pro-Hero.” He pats his co-worker on the shoulder. “Seriously, you can relax. It’s not like I didn’t figure out how your Quirk works years ago, anyway.”

He leaves Yagi gape-mouthed, turning to Midoriya. “Are you alright, Midoriya-kun? You really did a number on yourself out there.”

The boy startles. “Y-yes, Recovery Girl healed me right up,” he says. 

“That’s good. Oh, and just a word of advice…” He looms over Midoriya. “You should learn to control your new Quirk better before the school year starts. Because, if you ever even  _ think  _ about doing what you just did to your body again,” he eye-smiles, “I will personally blacklist you from ever earning your Pro-Hero license and bar you from every Hero agency that exists. Got it?”

Midoriya gulps. “G-got it.”

Shouta straightens, clapping his hands cheerfully next to his face. “Wonderful!” He turns to Yagi. “Now, I find myself quite curious as to what your thought process was in providing a child with a Quirk that would endanger his well-being like that.” He says mildly. “Oh, and you both need to get better at holding secret conversations. Considering, you know, the fact that this Quirk business is a secret. I could hear the two of you clearly even behind the closed door.”

Yagi sputters and Midoriya blushes bright red. Sage, they have a lot of work to do.

——— 

“Man, I can’t believe that Midoriya kid got put into your class!” Hizashi laughs. “I can’t decide if I feel jealous or sorry for you.” 

Shouta only grunts into his miso soup. He also has the incredible luck of having Explosion Child— Bakugo, right, he has to start calling them by their real names—as well as two of the recommended students (clan favoritism survives in many forms, it seems) for Class 1-A. He tugs irritably at the messy half-bun he’s thrown his hair into for his civilian outfit, scowling down at his noodles. This class is already shaping up to be a pain.

“You ready for the school year to start?” Hizashi spears a dumpling with his chopsticks. “You’re not gonna keep using that weird-ass first day test, are you? I can’t believe Nezu still lets you do that.” 

“And I can’t believe your dumb ass is still certified to teach English to a bunch of teenagers who somehow have even more energy than you do on your talk show at 3 A.M.,” Shouta says.

Hizashi guffaws, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Well, when a certain homeroom teacher keeps dropping hints about grammar rules and vocab practice, I don’t really have to do any work on my own, do I?”

“Maa, it’s just painful to watch them struggle at their own pace,” he says. “I don’t want an entire year of students to have to flunk out of school for failing your pitiful class. Not when I could expel them first.” A slow smile spreads across his face at the thought. Hizashi blanches at the expression, and Shouta uses his moment of distraction to snag the last dumpling off the blond’s plate while he isn’t looking.

“You are an evil, evil man,” Hizashi says, shaking his head mournfully at his empty plate.

“Why, thank you.” Shouta snags the last dumpling off the blond’s plate faster than his eyes can follow. “I work very hard.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi: and Rock Lee was the greenest child I ever met so you two are definitely the same person  
Also Kakashi: Expelling students is my happy place :)
> 
> AU note: instead of having Shinsou replace Nasty Grape Child (who conveniently does not exist in this world) immediately, I’m going to leave Class 1-A with 19 students so Kakashizawa can still have the whole training Shinsou bonding time stuff when he transfers to the Hero Course. Why does the class have an inexplicable hole in its roster? How did Nezu approve this? Who knows!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and I’ll see you all again for the next one! I'm quite excited about finally moving on with the anime plot :D


	7. Interlude 1: Yamada Hizashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hizashi reflects on the enigma that is Aizawa Shouta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings/manga spoilers for oboro, though it's just reflecting on events that have already taken place in this story.

Hizashi has never been sure what to think of Aizawa Shouta. 

He’s a walking contradiction, has always been, for as long as Hizashi has known him. Their very first encounter outside the doors of U.A., the black-haired boy seemed casual enough, good-natured but quiet. Friendly, but average on the whole.

Hizashi was stripped of this notion during their very first class assignment. During the search-and-rescue simulation, Shouta had pulled off stunning feats of physical prowess, tracking and running and directing his classmates effortlessly without activating his Quirk once (not that it would have helped him, anyway. Actually, perhaps that’s why the boy had been so good at the whole exercise—in a situation like that, his Quirk was entirely useless. He’d simply learned to compensate). He’d seemed entirely oblivious, or uncaring, of the jealous stares from the other students afterward. 

Their regular sparring sessions proved that Shouta’s performance in class hadn’t been a fluke. It was less of a practice session between classmates, and more of a weekly lesson where Hizashi and Oboro desperately tried to stay on their feet while their friend whipped them into shape like a particularly short drill sergeant.

All in all, Shouta was ruthlessly competent. And yet, he wasn’t arrogant, had no delusions of grandeur. He seemed to genuinely care for the two boys he’d taken under his wing. Hizashi knows he’s always fed the stray dogs around his apartment, too. When he took in the tiny puppy Oboro had found, Hizashi thought that underneath his off-putting humor and casual genius, Shouta was actually just a big softie. 

When he heard about Oboro’s death, he’d rushed to the hospital Kayama-senpai had called from, choking down grief and rage—but also, paralyzing fear for Shouta, the boy who’d always taken the well-being of his friends to be his responsibility. Hizashi had found him in a dark room, head bowed, deathly still in the silence. There was no doubt in his mind that Shouta had done the best he could do, that if he couldn’t save their white-haired friend then nobody could have. But Shouta would only see it as a personal failing. 

Shouta looked so tired, in that moment. Tired in a way no other teenager had ever looked before to Hizashi. He was only human, Hizashi realized. Only a teenager trying his best to navigate the wide, cruel world around them and hold on to the few friends he had. 

Hizashi knows how Oboro haunts his friend, how countless untold demons snap at Shouta’s nightmares from time to time. That day in the hospital, Hizashi had vowed to himself to help keep those old ghosts at bay, and he has continued to do so ever since.

After that, as Shouta and Hizashi had grown, graduating from U.A. and entering the wondrous world of Pro-Heroes, the contradictions surrounding the black-haired man have only multiplied. 

Case in point: he’s never expressed so much as an iota of interest in romantic relationships, was never flustered by Nemuri’s Hero costumes through the years, or even Nemuri herself. It’s not that he’s not into women either; Hizashi has seen him turn down every single advance, regardless of gender. Except Shouta reads porn like a starving man devours a meal. Hizashi had been half-joking when he bought him that pocket edition of  _ Fifty Shades of Grey  _ for his birthday, except he’s carried the copy with him ever since, wearing the spine down to shreds. 

When Hizashi had confronted him about it, Shouta had only smiled that bizarre eye-smile and said, “I just like good literature.”

(Hizashi maybe potentially kind of took a peek at the book. That thing is probably the furthest thing from  _ good literature _ possible.)

He is infuriating. He is confusing. He does things like sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor of the teachers lounge to get a rise out of his students, and then turn around and set record-highs for Villain catch rates. He is an enigma wrapped in dark clothing and dog fur and Hizashi will never figure him out.

Shouta is Hizashi’s best friend. The best he could ever ask for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something shorter for a snack while I work on the next actual chapter! sorry for the long period of inactivity, which I attribute to causes such as life school and all the things happening in the world right now. don't worry, I don't intend to abandon it currently!  
thanks for your continued support and I am working thru all your wonderful comments!
> 
> as a side note, I hope you all are safe and healthy during these trying times, no matter where you are in the world! and if by any chance you are someone who works in healthcare, food, or any kind of essential goods and services, thank you very much for all that you do!


	8. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shouta tests (read: messes with) his cute new students.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little more action-heavy... as a treat ;)

“My first impression of you all,” Shouta proclaims, half-zipped into his sleeping bag, “is that you’re boring.” 

There’s truly no better way to settle down a class, he thinks to himself in the subsequent, stunned silence. He very carefully does not look at Midoriya’s betrayed expression. Honestly, how much cuter can the kid get?

“Anyway, my name is Aizawa Shouta and my Hero name is Eraserhead. I’ll be your home-room teacher. Now, before we get any further, we’re going outside just to run a quick test. Everyone go change into your gym clothes.” 

A hand shoots up from the front row. Iida Tenya, the spitting image of his old classmate, Tensei, back when he walked these very halls. Shouta holds back a laugh. “...Yes?”

“Aizawa-sensei!” The kid barks, “I believe classes at U.A. typically start with a standard orientation procedure?”

“Ah, yes,” Shouta says, “most teachers do choose something along those lines. But this is my class, so you’ll have to follow my rules. I’ll see you all at Training Ground Seven.”

  
  


Training Ground Seven is, at least in this lifetime, a generic city-scape that U.A. seems to love to mass-produce, only a block wide and composed of three low-rise office buildings. Shouta runs a last-minute check of the various surveillance cameras set up to record the grounds, which will provide tapes of the test for him to study later. 

As Class 1-A trickles through the doors, he smirks to himself. These poor kids have no idea what’s about to hit them. Not even Midoriya. 

“Alright, can everybody see this map?” He calls, flipping on a large screen with a basic map of the city. “Find the number that corresponds with your seat number. That’ll be your starting position for the test. Got it?” Murmurs of assent ripple through the students. 

“Aizawa-sensei!” Iida again. “Will you be explaining the exact parameters of this test?”

“Sure,” Shouta says, before digging into his pocket and holding up his secret weapon. “Basically, I have a limited number of these bells hidden on my person. Your goal is to obtain one of these as quickly as possible in any manner you see fit. You are allowed to, and encouraged, to use your Quirks to the fullest extent of your ability. This is a measure of your potential as Heroes—whether it’s even worth it to teach you or not. I’m not someone who likes my time wasted.

“If you don’t have a bell by the end of the next hour, you fail the test. If you fail the test, you’re expelled.” He eye-smiles. “Is that clear?”

Outrage. Shouta’s heart sings with joy. Many of the students begin exclaiming all at once, particularly Explosion Ki—Bakugo, who immediately lets out a string of profanity so intense that Shouta can practically hear the U.A. Student Handbook shattering into tiny pieces. 

“You can’t fuckin’ do that!” He screams, murder in his eyes. 

“He’s right!” Another—Kirishima Eijirou, Quirk: Hardening—chimes in. “That’s totally uncool, sensei!” 

“Yeah, we already passed the Entrance Exam!” “This is so not fair!” 

Midoriya cuts in coolly, green eyes narrowed in concentration. “You’re bluffing, Eras—Aizawa-sensei,” he says quietly, and Shouta can practically hear the gears grinding in his head. “That’s just part of the test, right? Do you even have the authority to expel us over something like that?”

“Well…” Shouta says, smirk still firm on his face, “that’s for me to know and you to find out.” He cuts off the rest of the students, taking note of the various reactions his words have inspired. “You have one minute to find your beginning position. When the alarm sounds, the test begins.” 

His students run. 

Shouta barely holds back a cackle of maniacal laughter.

He ambles casually through the city terrain, weaving silently through shadows as is second nature to him. Every now and then, he glimpses a student frantically scrambling into place. Soon enough, the minute is up, and he perches at the edge of one of the building roofs, surveying the square block of nineteen students evenly scattered on ground-level. 

An air horn blasts through the air, and his U.A.-ified Bell Test begins. 

While none of the students know quite where he’s located, Shouta respects the healthy amount of chaos that immediately explodes on the training grounds below him. Bakugo’s a mushroom cloud over in the second quadrant, and ice creeps its way over a building to his left. Todoroki, then. Those are the flashier of the Quirks that Shouta sees, although none come close to giving away his location. 

The first student to make real progress in tracking his position comes as a bit of a surprise. If Shouta’s previous life hadn’t held the sheer variety of animal summons that it had, he likely would have dismissed the innocent flock of birds that flutter into the air behind him, or the pack of rats scratching in the corner. Kouda Kouji, Quirk: Anivoice. He appears rather suited for stealth missions, he muses in approval, even as he abandons his perch and begins leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

(He feels a pang of longing for a certain pack of summons that he hasn’t seen for nearly three decades, now.)

Shouta hears yells from the ground as several students in the third quadrant spot him in the air. He chuckles to himself as they give chase, Quirks lashing out at him from every direction. 

A shadow with glowing eyes on the left—Tokoyami Fumikage, Quirk: Dark Shadow. A beam of condensed light cutting through the air in front of him—Aoyama Yuuga, Quirk: Navel Laser. A crackle of electricity eating its way up steel scaffolding—Kaminari Denki, Quirk: Electrification. 

(The taste of ozone in the air sends another pang of nostalgia through him.)

Shouta is almost impressed by the intensity and speed of the attacks. It’s almost as his cute students are timing their Quirks to hit one right after the other, taking advantage of each other’s powers to amplify the effectiveness of their own—either that, or someone has convinced them to cooperate. His eyes narrow in suspicion as he spots a mop of green hair dodging through the alleyways in an effort to keep up with Shouta’s pace. 

Snippets of hushed commands float up to his position, too low for the average person to hear at such a large distance. “Iida-san, now move to the next position—” Midoriya is murmuring. “Ashido-san is almost—” “—up, Aoyama-san—” 

Of course, the Problem Child has not only completely blasted through the teamwork requirements, but is also masterminding an elaborate trap to catch him. They’re barely even fifteen minutes into the exercise. 

Shouta knows he shouldn’t play favorites, but pride swells in his chest anyway. Midoriya has always had a terrifying intellect, even before Shouta had met him. He’d only had to nudge him a bit, point him in the right direction with a few words, and the kid was quickly becoming a five-star strategist. 

(It’s like Rock Lee’s work ethic combined with Nara Shikamaru’s intellect. Shouta can only be thankful that they were two separate people in his old world.)

Of course, the kid could stand to learn some self-preservation. And how to keep a secret. And how to control All Might’s Quirk. Baby steps, Shouta reminds himself.

He jumps onto a lower roof. The moment his feet touch the concrete, it caves in on itself, dissolving into acidified mush. Ah, so that’s why Midoriya had recruited Ashido. Clever, but still not enough to catch him—he throws out his capture tool, the weighted end wrapping around a utility pole and anchoring the weapon as he pulls himself out of the sinkhole. 

Shouta is almost impressed. 

No point in lingering any longer in this area, he decides. These students have all passed already, anyway, thanks to Midoriya’s quick thinking. Time to see what the other children have up their sleeve.

  
  


— — — — — 

  
  


Disappointingly, he doesn’t expel anybody, in the end. It’s a close call with several of them—Bakugo and Todoroki stand out in particular, but they have a last-minute save by Kirishima’s devotion to the platonic ideal of Manliness to thank, the red-haired teen essentially forcing them into teamwork by throwing himself in the middle of their attacks. 

(He’s starting to get tired of all these parallels between his friends from his last life and the people he’s responsible for in this life. Actually, who is he kidding? He loves it.)

Shouta surveys the anxious faces lined up before him. He wants to savor the moment, but he supposes he’s messed with them enough for their first day of classes. 

“None of you managed to get a bell today,” he says ominously, “so, you all…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “...pass!”

“ _ WHAT?!”  _ CLass 1-A screams in unison. Honestly, one would think they would be happier about it all.

“But—but, Sensei, we didn’t accomplish your objective!” Iida says. 

“None of us came close to getting the bells, you said so yourself,” Uraraka agrees. Several other voices pipe up with similar sentiments. 

Shouta eye-smiles. “Maa, that is true… would you like me to fail you, instead?” He asks, tilting his head innocently. The students pale dramatically. “Heh, just kidding!” 

Exaggerated reactions abound. He waits for the commotion to die down, allowing his face to become serious.

“Actually,” Shouta says, “you all  _ did  _ meet my objective today, just not the one I told you about. The test was for you to see underneath the underneath. I gave you an impossible task—I wanted to test if you would work together to reach your goal. Hence, your real objective today was  _ teamwork _ .” 

His students stare back at him uncertainly. 

Shouta lets out a sigh. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, your Hero journeys begin today. You’ll face countless obstacles, hardships, and challenges. You all have the potential to grow strong.” He pauses meaningfully. “But, as Heroes, your true strength lies in your ability to work with others, to empathize and form connections with others—those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash.” 

Silence. His abridged teamwork speech seems to have gone well, then.

“So!” Shouta claps, smiling again. “Like I said, you all passed!”

“But, Sensei!” Iida raises his hand again. “What was the point of pitting us against each other for a fake test?”

“It was a logical ruse,” Shouta says. He can practically feel his students’ glares. Oh, the joys of teaching!

He moves on with the rest of their first-day orientation, and the students seem content enough to put the morning’s events behind them, relieved that they weren’t actually going to be expelled. 

(In the back of his mind, however, concern for certain students linger—specifically, Todoroki’s behavior has been setting off all sorts of alarm bells in Shouta’s head. His lack of emotion, his inability to interact normally with his peers, his display of power during the test… 

His father, Endeavour, is already deeply unfriendly at the best of times, and he makes no attempt to keep his vendetta against All Might a secret. Shouta can only imagine the kind of pressure Todoroki is under at home. Add to that the vivid scar bisecting the teen’s face— 

Shouta makes a mental note to pay particular attention to Todoroki. He  _ is  _ his student now, after all, and Shouta has a responsibility for him. One he doesn’t intend to fail. 

For a moment, he sees dark hair and red eyes, the face of a tortured student he’s already failed. He won’t make the same mistake again this time, he vows to himself.)

  
  


As his new class files out of the room for the day, chattering excitedly like a flock of birds on an electric line, Shouta slumps tiredly against the wall. When he looks up, Midoriya is standing awkwardly before him, the rest of the children already gone.

“Maa, can I help you, Midoriya?”

“Yes—no—I mean—” the green-haired boy stammers. “Er, I just…”

Shouta huffs in amusement.

“Iwanttothankyouforeverythingyou’vetaughtme,” Midoriya finally says in a rush, “and—and I’m looking forward to being your student this year!”

“Ah,” Shouta says, leaning forward to ruffle the kid’s hair. “You did well today, Midoriya.” He allows a rare, genuine smile to curve across his face. “I’m proud of you.”

Midoriya smiles tentatively in response. 

(He thinks that, perhaps, everything he’s found in this second life is worth the pain he’s been through to get it.)

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tour guide voice: And to your left you’ll see my bastardized version of the bell test
> 
> Thank you again for your comments, kudos and bookmarks! I’m constantly blown away by the sheer amount of love y’all have shown me and this humble little fic, especially since it's my first time writing and posting something like this!! Hugs and kisses to everybody (but from a safe distance) <3 <3
> 
> Please let me know what you think! As always, comments are the light of my life


	9. The kids aren't alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shouta continues to be a Responsible Adult.

  
  


He approaches Shouta on the third day of school. Shouta’s trying to get a head-start on the enormous stack of homework assignments his class turned in that morning, but five students in and some of the answers he’s read already make him want to cry. 

Why did he assign homework on the first day of school, again? 

“Excuse me, are you Eraserhead-sensei?” A voice asks from the doorway. 

Shouta looks up, studying the newcomer. “...yes, but you can call me Aizawa-sensei,” he answers. 

The boy is tall for his age, purple hair flaring out around his head (Shouta is  _ not  _ jealous, dammit, it’s not like he misses his old hair or anything), dressed in a standard student uniform. Strikingly, he’s got dark circles sunken deep under his eyes, which give him a dead-eyed stare and makes Shouta want to bundle him into a bed and force him to take a nap. 

“My name is Shinsou Hitoshi,” the boy introduces himself, bowing shallowly in front of Shouta’s desk. “I’m in Class 1-C, in the General Studies Department.” His voice is low, and his face is serious. 

Shouta shuffles away the assignment he’d just been working on (Hizashi is going to have a fit when he sees how bad Kaminari’s English is) and levels his full stare onto the boy; to his credit, Shinsou returns it without a flinch. “How can I help you, Shinsou-kun?”

The boy jams his hands into his pockets. “...I would like to transfer into the Hero Course,” he finally says. Shouta raises an eyebrow. “My Quirk, Brainwashing,” Shinsou continues, “it’s not suited for combat—or the U.A. Hero Department Entrance Exams. I couldn’t keep up with the other candidates with flashier, physical Quirks. I placed extremely high on the written portion of the Entrance Exams, but it just wasn’t enough.” His tone is bitter.

Shouta hums. “So why come to me?”

“I looked you up,” Shinsou says, “and your Quirk, Erasure, stood out to me. It’s a non-combat Quirk, like mine. But what stood out even more was your record from your time at U.A.” He leans forward, planting his hands on Shouta’s desk, eyes dark and intense. “Eras—Aizawa-sensei, how did you get around the Entrance Exams and qualify for the Hero Course with your Quirk? How did you survive in U.A.’s prejudiced Hero Course?”

Leaning back in his chair, Shouta crosses his arms. “Maa, you want to know how I tricked the Entrance Exams?” He says mildly. 

Shinsou eyes him for a moment, before nodding in one sharp movement. “Yes, Sensei, I would just like to know your strategy in case it can help me—”

“I didn’t,” Shouta interrupts quietly. “I didn’t trick the system.” Shinsou shuts his mouth so quickly that his teeth click audibly, staring at Shouta. 

“...did you get in through a recommendation, then?” He asks. 

“No,” Shouta says. “I didn’t get in through a recommendation. I didn’t appeal to the teachers or the administrators. I played the game honestly.” 

He stands from behind his desk, gesturing at Shinsou to take one of the empty student desks at the front of the classroom. The boy hesitates a moment, before sliding into a seat. Shouta leans against his desk, gazing down at him. 

“You’re correct that U.A.’s Entrance Exams are a bit… flawed,” Shouta continues. “But you knew that going into the tests, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Shinsou says.

“You know, there are many other Hero schools you could get into that are less intense than U.A., that have fairer exams and would suit your Quirk better.” He eyes the boy. “Besides, nobody inherently deserves a spot in the Hero Course. Nobody makes it here without putting in hard work. Why should you be any different? Why waste your time with U.A. when you knew you wouldn’t be able to cut it?” 

Shinsou’s hands clench, and anger blazes through his eyes at Shouta’s words. He takes a deep breath through his teeth. “Because,” he grits out, “I’m tired of always being called a Villain for my Quirk. Because no matter how flawed its systems, U.A. is the best of the best. I want to be the best Hero I can be and learn from the best Heroes there are.”

“Good,” Shouta says, eye-smiling suddenly. “That’s how I felt, too.” Shinsou falters, caught off-guard by Shouta’s abrupt change. “I knew, going into the Exams, that the odds were stacked against my favor. Extremely so. I wouldn’t be able to rely on my Quirk at all for the physical portion. Essentially, I was Quirkless.” He tilts his head. “I’m sure you were the same, Shinsou-kun?”

“Yes,” Shinsou says, “it’s not a fair test—”

“Life isn’t fair,” Shouta interrupts sharply. “Nothing in this world is fair. It’s just the simple truth. Especially for people like you and me, life will never  _ be  _ fair, and you need to accept that now rather than later.” 

“But—” 

“You want to know how I got into the Hero Course?” Shouta asks. “I trained for years in preparation. I pushed myself to my limits, and then beyond that, every day. I studied the support equipment U.A. allowed in the Exams, and ones that they didn’t allow, and I mastered them. I took the Exams without using my Quirk even once. I worked harder than anyone else in my year in order to earn my place in the Hero Course.”

Shinsou is staring at him, slack-jawed. 

Shouta softens his tone. “You’ll have to work harder than anyone else if you want to transfer into the Hero Department, Shinsou-kun. Put in longer hours, push yourself more, make the sacrifices that other people don’t have to—devote yourself to becoming the strongest you can possibly be. That’s how we have to live our lives.” 

The purple-haired boy looks back at him uncertainly. “Is… is it worth it?” He asks. “To become a Hero like that?”

“That’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself, Shinsou.” Shouta sighs a bit. “You have to make your own way in this world.” He slouches again, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Go home and think about it. Make your own choice about what you want to do, about what you want out of this life. Come find me again when you’re confident about your answer. I’ll be waiting.”

“I—” Shinsou says, “—yes, I’ll do that.” He stands from his desk, before suddenly bowing to Shouta again, much deeper than he had before. “...thank you, Sensei,” he says, softly but sincerely. 

Shouta eye-smiles. “Don’t forget, you aren’t alone,” he adds, almost an afterthought. “If you do choose to continue down this path, there are many people who are more than willing to aid you however possible, myself included. And some of your peers may be able to relate to your situation more than you think. Keep an open mind.”

The purple-haired boy nods once more, before exiting the classroom. 

Shouta has a feeling he knows what answer Shinsou will return with. He smiles to himself in the empty classroom, before scooping up the ungraded assignments on his desk and turning out the lights. 

  
  


— — — — — 

  
  


All Might’s summary of his first Foundational Hero Studies class is almost thirty pages long, with detailed analyses of each student in Class 1-A. Naturally, Shouta’s already read through and annotated them by the end of the school day, leaving him enough time to ambush the other Hero outside the teacher’s lounge. 

He’s particularly concerned about two of the trials from Yagi’s report. Bakugou and Midoriya’s explosive confrontation is at the forefront; it appears their childhood history has some unresolved tension. Bakugou’s arrogance and temper will cost him much more than just a school trial victory if left unchecked. Shouta hasn’t seen a superiority complex this far-developed since Hyuuga Hiashi, and at least the man had  _ earned  _ his right to feel that way on the battlefield. 

Midoriya’s unhealthy attachment to traumatic relationships and lack of attachment to his functioning limbs is another problem. Shouta scratches his chin as he walks. Having All Might, the textbook definition of self-sacrifice, as a personal mentor likely doesn’t help matters, he muses. He’s not sure why the boy is so attached to Bakugou when the other clearly doesn’t return the sentiment, which speaks to Midoriya’s lack of understanding of what a healthy friendship looks like. Either that, or there’s a depth to their relationship that Shouta hasn’t had enough time to dissect yet.

Finally, Todoroki’s trial raises so many red flags that Shouta wonders if the rest of his fellow U.A. staff are actually color-blind. His demonstration of power was more than simple overkill, more than a teenager showing off for his classmates—he’s purposely isolating himself, doesn’t care to form any kind of relationship with his peers. There's constant anger, even hatred. 

Shouta can’t say he’s surprised, but he does wonder what sort of point the kid is trying to prove. His antagonism toward his fire-half of his Quirk leads Shouta to certain conclusions he doesn’t enjoy entertaining. But he doesn’t have any evidence to support his suspicions, and he’s definitely not in any kind of position to outright ask Todoroki about anything, yet. He can only wait and try to help the boy as best he currently can. And maybe sneak a candy bar or three into Todoroki’s pocket every day. Kid sure looks like he could use some nice things in his life.

He rounds the corner of the hallway and opens the door to the teacher’s lounge. 

Toshinori and Midoriya both jump in their seats, staring guiltily at Shouta as he breezes into the room. 

“...Maa, I thought we talked about this, you two,” he says. “Stop looking so suspicious. At least I couldn’t hear your conversation from the hallway, though, so that’s an improvement.” 

“Er—good afternoon, Aizawa,” Toshinori stammers. Midoriya echoes his greeting. “Did you need anything from us?”

“As a matter of fact, yes!” Shouta eye-smiles, leaning against the door to close it. “Midoriya, if you keep purposely breaking your entire arm in order to use your Quirk, I will expel you,” he says mildly.

The two gape at him.

“C-come now, Aizawa, there’s no need for such extremes, surely,” Toshinori says. 

“Yes, there is,” Shouta says bluntly. “Midoriya, you’re training to become a Hero now,” he addresses the green-haired boy, who subconsciously sits up straighter. “Heroes are meant to help people. Whether that means search-and-rescue or keeping the peace, you’ll be responsible for the safety of others. What good will you be as a Hero if you continually throw your safety to the wind and incapicitate yourself?”

“But I’ll get better!” Midoriya protests. “I just need to learn to control One For All, and I won’t hurt myself this way anymore!”

“Yes,” Shouta says, “but the more you think it’s alright to sacrifice your limbs right now, the more it will become a habit. Trust me, this will help nobody in the long run. Think of this as me looking out for your future best-interests. Since I can’t help you train your Quirk, then I’ll help hold you accountable to a Hero’s standards.” 

Midoriya seems to deflate. “...I understand, Aizawa-sensei.” 

A beat of silence passes, before Shouta speaks again. “I know I don’t know the technicalities of your Quirk, but I’m thinking that you should try reconsidering what you know about how to use it.” He glances at Toshinori. “Surely, breaking your bones isn’t the only way to use your Quirk.”

“No,” Toshinori says, “but young Midoriya has not yet built up enough tolerance and control to use it properly. His body cannot handle the output of One For All right now.”

“—So I’ve been isolating it in more localized parts of my body to limit the damage,” Midoriya adds. “It’s just too much energy for me to handle.”

Shouta frowns. One For All sounds suspiciously familiar… 

“Actually, Midoriya, I may be able to help you,” he says. “When were you going to hold your next practice session for your Quirk?” He asks Toshinori just as much as Midoriya.

“Well,” Midoriya says, “All Might has had me working on a fitness routine to increase my body’s tolerance levels, but I don’t really have a chance to use the Quirk itself, since it breaks my bones and all—”

“Wait,” Shouta says slowly, “so you mean… you haven’t been trying to use your Quirk outside of class  _ at all _ ?” He looks incredulously at Toshinori, who suddenly can’t quite meet his eyes. 

“I did not wish to risk Midoriya’s health,” the blond stammers, “especially since he would not have access to Recovery Girl’s healing outside school hours—”

“Wednesday afternoon at 4 p.m., Training Ground 12,” Shouta says briskly to both of them. “Don’t be late,” he adds, allowing the  _ or else _ to hang menacingly in the air. With that, he turns and walks out of the room. 

When he’s safely alone in the hallway, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Hizashi was right. Why did he always get the problem children? Shouta stretches languidly, before heading out to grab his things. Now, where did he leave his notebook on chakra theory again?

  
  


— — — — — 

  
  


“If I understand correctly,” Shouta calls down to Toshinori from his perch in a tree, “One For All is a sort of energy inside the holder’s body, which, when activated, amplifies the holder’s strength.”

“That is correct,” Toshinori says. He paces back and forth in the dirt clearing of Training Ground 12. The two teachers have both arrived a few minutes early, so all that’s left now is to wait for Midoriya. 

Normally, Shouta would have taken his time (read: two hours) to actually arrive, but he’s genuinely afraid of what nonsense Toshinori would manage to teach Midoriya in that amount of time. 

“Another question,” Shouta says. “Is your Quirk present throughout the entirety of your body, and you activate it in certain parts when you require it? Or is it more of a central location, and you send the energy toward the body part you wish to strengthen?”

“The latter,” Toshinori says. “That is why my body switches forms whenever I activate or deactivate One For All.”

Shouta grunts. “Thought so, just wanted to be sure.”

Midoriya rushes into the training ground, kicking up a plume of dust behind him. “I’m here, Sensei!” He calls, panting from his run. The boy’s dressed in his gym clothes. 

Shouta hops down from his tree, ignoring Midoriya’s surprised flinch. “Let’s get started, then,” he says. He waves the other two closer to him, before plopping down onto the dirt ground in lotus position. Hesitantly, Midoriya and Toshinori follow suit. “Alright, Midoriya,” he begins, “tell me, can you sense One For All even when you’re not using it?”

The boy frowns in thought. “I… I think so,” he says. “It’s very faint, but something in my body definitely feels different from before All Might passed it on to me.”

“Can you tell me where exactly you sense it in your body?” Shouta presses. 

Midoriya is quiet for a moment. “My chest, I think,” he says, pressing a hand to the general area. 

“Hmm, makes sense,” Shouta says. “It’s the most central point on your body, so it can reach whichever area you need it to be in the fastest. When you activate it, can you feel the energy traveling from that area?”

“Actually…” Midoriya says, “now that you mention it, Sensei, I think I do remember feeling that every time I’ve used it in the past. I’ve never thought about it that way before.”

“Alright,” Shouta says, “now that we’ve established that, here’s what I want you to do. With any sort of power like One For All, one that is a sort of energy that you direct around your body, the basis of your control stems from your ability to direct it to where you want it, and how much you want at one time.”

Midoriya blinks. “So, I’m using too much of it right now?”

Shouta nods. “Think about it. When you use your muscles normally, your cells are powered by oxygen and nutrients that your blood circulates through your body. You don’t have concentrated blood in your heart, that you send to whichever body part you want to move; you have blood constantly pumping through your veins.”

Understanding dawns on the green-haired boy. “So I should circulate One For All the same way,” he says. “That way, I’ll gain a sense for how much of it I’m using and which parts of my body need what amounts of energy. When I’m sending it to just my arm or leg it’s building up too much energy at once. Like trying to fill a water balloon with a hose.”

“Right,” Shouta says, ruffling Midoriya’s hair in approval. 

The boy ducks his head, but Shouta can see the embarrassed smile twitching across his lips. He hands Midoriya a small sheet of paper, on which he’s scribbled a map of all the tenketsu points across the human body. Toshinori cranes his neck to see the diagram as Midoriya studies it intently. 

“For today’s exercise, I want you to practice moving One For All throughout your body, to as many of these points as possible,” Shouta says. While the Quirk is definitely not the same as chakra, he figures it’s as good a method as any to help Midoriya understand how thorough his control needs to be. “However, I don’t want you to activate the Quirk. Just feel it. This will be your new practice method until you can accurately control One For All at all of these points.”

“But what if he loses control of the Quirk?” Toshinori rumbles, concerned. “He might break every part of his body, rather than only his arm, if this exercise goes awry.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Shouta says, standing and stretching. “If Midoriya loses control, I’ll erase his Quirk before it can do any damage. Alright, Midoriya, let’s get to it.” 

He sets Midoriya up in a meditative position, cross-legged in the dirt clearing. As the boy settles and closes his eyes in concentration, Shouta retreats to his tree to keep watch, eyes half-lidded under his long hair. 

“You are quite the teacher, Aizawa,” Toshinori says, leaning against the trunk of Shouta’s tree. “How did you come up with these ideas?”

“Aah, it’s just something I remembered from a long time ago,” Shouta murmurs. 

“I feel as if I am not mentoring him as he needs,” Toshinori admits. “I have been trying to train him for months now with little success. You were able to see how best to help him in an instant, and explain it to him in a way he understands.”

Shouta frowns, glancing down at the blond. “Sometimes, it just takes an outside opinion, a shift in perspective, to figure things out.” He crosses his arms behind his head and allows himself to relax. “I think you’re doing the best you can with a difficult situation. And sometimes, that’s all we can do.”

Toshinori is quiet beside him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a shorter, fluffy filler before we hit USJ--but then the plot bunnies attacked oops,, but at least we got to meet Shinsou finally!!  
As always, thank you so much for reading and I adore all of your comments! I always do my best to reply to them, but I apologize if I've missed a couple here and there >.<


	10. Cut for time: Who let the dogs out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small omake featuring cute dogs and dinner with friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some sexual innuendo from Midnight.   
Sorry to trick y'all with an omake instead of a full chapter, hehe   
This is just some cut dialogue from the previous chapter that I expanded into some gratuitous fluff involving Shouta and his two (2) friends.

“This Shinsou kid sounds like a real piece of work,” Hizashi says, before gleefully tearing into his burger and slurping noisily on his fountain drink. “Why d’you alwath get t’problem kidths?” He mumbles around a mouthful of ground beef. 

“Maybe I’m a likeable person,” Shouta sniffs, primly pushing his chopsticks into the soft white flesh of his broiled saury. “Maybe people can sense that I have good advice.” 

“Or maybe they can sense that you’re the Ultimate Problem Child!” Hizashi throws his head back in a loud laugh. Luckily, tonight’s restaurant is casual and noisy, so the blond’s loud voice blends into the background chatter. 

“I am the very picture of sophistication and grace,” Shouta says. He gathers a flake of fish with an equal-sized portion of rice for a perfectly-balanced bite of his meal, stuffing it quickly in his mouth when Hizashi glances away. The aromas roll around his tongue as he savours the food. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hizashi says, “and I’m the Prime Minister of Japan.” 

“You are?” Shouta says seriously. “Then perhaps you can direct my inquiry on the sub-clause of Article V of the latest citizen-aid legislation to pass through your—” 

Hizashi dissolves into giggles. “You’re such a nerd."

“Thank you,” Shouta says, eye-smiling easily. 

They eat in companionable silence for a while, the background noise of the food court washing over them. With the start of the new school year, chances like these are rare, and Shouta silently relishes the chance to escape the chaos of U.A. and have a nice dinner with his best friend. Plus, Hizashi never notices when Shouta steals his food until it’s too late, and Shouta considers the activity to be the peak of all Hizashi-related entertainment. 

Hizashi bumps Shouta’s elbow with his. “What are you up to after this?” He asks, licking sauce from his fingers messily. 

“I need to swing by the pet store,” Shouta says. “I’m out of dog food again. The latest litter has been growing nicely and Mama Sakura needs her dinner.”

“Oh, man,” Hizashi’s eyes go round, “I haven’t met the new puppies yet. Can I come, Shouta? Pretty please?” He drags the last word out in a long whine, not unlike a puppy himself. 

Shouta grumbles at Hizashi, but they both know he’d never say no. Their conversation turns to more inane topics as they finish the rest of their dinner. As they’re gathering their trash, a familiar voice cuts in from behind Shouta.

“Shouta! Hizashi! Fancy seeing you two here,” Shouta turns, mentally groaning at the sound of his colleague’s voice. It’s Nemuri, dressed in civilian attire like Hizashi, waving at them as she carries her own tray, laden with an empty bowl, with her other hand. 

“Hey, Nemuri!” Hizashi shouts back excitedly, while Shouta manages a tired grunt. “We just finished dinner, and now we’re gonna go to the pet store so Shouta can stock up!”

“What, for a midnight snack?” Nemuri asks. 

“Of course,” Shouta says, eye-smiling. “What else would I buy dog food for?”

“I didn’t peg you as that type,” Nemuri says, before leering. “Although, if you’re interested, I’d be more than happy to peg you in the other sense of the word, and in any kind of costume you like, too—”

Hizashi throws his head back in a laugh. “No, no, Nemuri,” he giggles, “the food’s for the pack of strays next to his apartment complex! But I’d pay good money to see Shouta in a dog costume.”

“Maa, sure, but then I’d have to kill you afterward,” Shouta says mildly. 

“Hey, Nemuri, you up to anything right now?” Hizashi says. “You should come meet the dogs with us!”

Shouta cuts a look at the blond. “Hey, don’t invite people to someone else’s party.”

“Sure,” Nemuri shrugs, ignoring Shouta’s words. “Not like I have anything better to do.”

And that was how Shouta ended up with two grown-ass adults cuddling a pack of (admittedly-adorable) puppies outside his apartment. 

Predictably, the dogs love Hizashi and Nemuri. Shouta would be irritated, except he’s been stealthily snapping photos with his phone the entire time, stocking up on some truly excellent blackmail material. 

A cold nose nudges at his hand, and he drops down to pet the excitable yellow lab at his side. “You’ve already had more than enough treats for today,” he chides. Naruto the Second only looks at him with large, round eyes. 

“You know,” Nemuri says, a chocolate-colored puppy nipping at her fingers, “I should have known you’d pull something like this. You haven’t changed one bit since our school days, Shouta.” 

Shouta pouts. “What can I say? I’m just a magnet for trouble.” He digs his fingers into the dog’s fur as Naruto rolls onto his back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he pants in delight. 

When he glances back up, Hizashi is looking at him. “Shouta just has a talent for attracting strays,” the blond says, mouth quirking into a smile. Shouta knows he’s talking about more than just the dogs, recalling their conversation over dinner earlier. “They can always tell that he’ll take care of them.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Shouta hums. 

Naruto the Second wags his tail. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your amazing comments!! I do my best to reply to them all :D


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